CLASSICAL MUSIC - TOO ÉLITIST
?
Arthur Butterworth
A commentary by Sir
Peter Maxwell Davies, Master of the
Queen’s Music was the subject of a news
item on Radio 4 in recent days. Sir
Peter pointed out that there would seem
to be a real possibility that classical
music might, perhaps before too long,
die out completely. One of his contentions
being that in a growing number of schools
there was no proper provision for serious
music being taught properly, if at all,
or that many who are supposed to teach
music are themselves so lacking in both
technical knowledge of the subject,
and what is even more insidious, a sense
of its ideals and purpose. On the face
of it this appears to be all too true.
Sir Peter also hinted that the very
nature of classical music is now widely
regarded as too élitist. Perhaps
this is also true, especially in these
times of political correctness and the
obsessive desire to bring all things
in life to a common level.
The situation deserves
some consideration. Firstly all human
beings start out in childhood in a state
of innocence: they have to learn by
degrees what the world they have been
(unwillingly) born into is all about.
There is another way of regarding this
pristine innocence, we might not like
this alternative way of putting it,
but it is nonetheless a true description:
we are all born ignorant, and only through
a long and often difficult process do
we acquire knowledge and understanding;
or put another way, insight and culture.
In the widest sense the human race as
a whole has had to develop a sense of
culture. Probably for the great majority
this has ever been a very slow thing
to acquire; only a comparative few have,
either by an in-born talent, or because
of some good fortune in their antecedents,
been able to rise to the top of the
social/élitist scale. This of
course, is now regarded as iniquitous
and not to be perpetrated any longer
in an ideal world. But it is not, nor
ever has been an ideal world; there
have always been those who have had
a greater insight into things. Quite
apart from equality of opportunity (set
such store by in present-day attitudes)
some people, in virtually all vocations
seem to stand out from the rest; they
are gifted in some way.
In the earliest days
of music the large masses of the population
could only perceive and understand the
most basic of popular tavern tunes,
country dances and such like; the ‘pop’
music of the day. The only other music,
and probably the first to be properly
organised as an art form at all, seems
to have been in the realms of the church,
and certainly music in the service of
the church might well have been the
only formalised music making available
to the common person. As in later times
it must at first only have been the
privileged who were to realise the potential,
intellectual and emotional, that music
(like the sister arts) could rise to.
The early classics were indeed élitist
- in the best sense of that much maligned
word. The creation of such élitist
arts depended on the heightened imagination
and creative insight of writers (such
as Shakespeare) painters (Titian,. Rembrandt,
whoever else you care to think of) and
composers (Bach, Mozart, Beethoven ....).
Even in that so-called "Age of
Enlightenment" such music could
never have had the widespread appeal
to the masses that the naive music of
popular taste - music heard in ale houses,
at country fairs and local merry-making
must have enjoyed.
By its very nature
that high élitist culture and
an insight into where it could lead
spiritually must ever have had but a
relatively restricted appeal. The first
manifestations of what we now loosely
call ‘classical music’ could reach but
few of the population. Yet by degrees
this growing awareness of the good things
of life began to reach the greater masses
of humanity. Despite the general awakening
to all forms of knowledge and culture,
and its becoming more in reach of the
less-privileged, by its very nature
it was always bound to carry in it an
élitism: not an élitism
born of privilege, but a natural élitism
of the human mind, which sad, but true,
to say, is not vouchsafed to the majority
of us. We can be led so far, but as
the old saying goes: "You can lead
a horse to the trough but you cannot
make it drink". This then, it seems
to me is part of the dilemma.
In the great age of
nineteenth century revolution the art
of music certainly does appear to have
blossomed, perhaps it reached a peak.
This did not stop in the twentieth century;
it even spread more widely and effectively.
So what has happened ?
The world-wide situation
is too complex to examine in a short
commentary but it is possible to assess
things as they seem to be happening
on a narrower scale, which in itself
could (like a pre-general election poll)
give some idea as to what is happening
in other places.
While in Britain there
has long been music-making of a vast
variety: not solely the really popular
or common-place, or music connected
with religious observance and ritual,
but music on a grand scale: operatic,
symphonic, chamber music, local choirs
and bands. In the past century this
has certainly grown beyond the expectations
of the times. There are now permanent
orchestras and opera companies where
there were comparatively few before.
Yet from what our grandparents tell
us there were often musical events that
were grandiose - and popular - as they
are now even if not of quite such frequent
happening.
Coming nearer to our
own time: It is worth relating what
happened in just one major city in the
1930’s. Hallé school children’s
concerts were promoted once a month.
They were fairly cheap, not freely provided,
and school children had to make their
own way to the centre of Manchester
on concert evenings. They were encouraged
to attend, but there was no coercion;
it remained a free choice. The concerts
were presented with the same kind of
prestige and "élitist glamour"
that the Hallé Society offered
to its wealthy upper-class patrons at
the regular subscription concerts. The
children’s concerts never played down
to their audiences: the orchestra appeared.
in full evening dress, the programmes
were of the standard classics, and a
full two-hours in duration, and there
were international soloists. The surprising
thing about music in schools in those
days was that while there was regular
class singing, there was virtually no
instrumental teaching whatsoever. Only
the most privileged and expensive private
schools might boast a school orchestra.
Ordinary schools did not have either
the resources or the interest to promote
instrumental teaching. So what persuaded
young people to go to concerts ?
After the Second World
War peripatetic music teaching took
off in a big way; all local authorities
- if the pun can be excused - ‘climbed
on the band wagon" and there was a furious
promotion of music, albeit at the expense
of choral singing. Paradoxically the
formal school concerts by big professional
orchestras tended to go down-market.
In place of the full evening concerts
(white tie and tails) schools-authority
concerts took place during school hours:
short concerts with the orchestra in
more casual dress, much watered-down
programmes, and audiences comprised
of children who were bussed to the concerts
whether they liked it or not. There
seemed almost to be an apology for performing
music in front of them: "élitism"
seemed to be an embarrassment and so
the insidious seeds of a decline perhaps
could be said to have set in.
The situation is a
puzzling paradox: there are more young
people making music to an incredibly
high technical standard; yet it is true
that in many schools music is either
badly taught or not appreciated at all:
pop reigns (but in a sense it always
did, even in Edwardian and Victorian
days). It is said that audiences for
serious (so-called ‘classical’ music)
is now only patronised by an ageing
audience. This, however, is not really
different than in former times.
Music in a classical
style - from whatever period - is not
just for casual entertainment: it demands
careful attention from the listener.
It is not primarily, if at all, for
sensual physical stimulation, but is
a phenomenon of stimulating the intellect
and the more subtle emotions; thus it
requires a degree of mental maturity
for its fullest appreciation. This is
one reason why audiences generally tend
to be older: it takes time for the individual
to acquire the kind of intellectual
insight that brings the fullest appreciation
of the classics. Younger people, for
the most part, have not reached this
stage; they need something physically
exciting; the older audiences of today
were once young and they did not attend
concerts in the way they now do; tomorrow’s
audiences are the young of today, but
they will quite assuredly, come to classical
music as they themselves mature.
As for élitism
this is by definition, the essential
of all classical thought and creativity.
It is the difference between the common-place
and vulgar, the everyday and often cheaply
ephemeral; élitism reaches for
the highest in human endeavour. Far
from being despised we should treasure
élitism more than ever. The present-day
attitude to élitism is a sign
of a decline in general culture: poor
taste in things: manners, casual dress,
lazy mental pursuits, passive attitudes,
pop arts, inarticulateness, neuroses
of many kinds, and not least an inverted
snobbery which is displayed in an ignorance
of classical music.
Arthur Butterworth
