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Musings on Minimalism
| Article
# : |
15929 |
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Section : |
THE ARTS
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| Issue
Date : |
7 / 1989 |
2,760 Words |
| Author
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Robert R. Reilly
Robert R. Reilly's second part of his article on English music
appears in the August 1990 issue of The World & I. |
I confess I have avoided Minimalism. It struck me, at its worst, as a form of sonic narcolepsy or, at its best, as aural anesthesia. But now, through immersion in a spate of recent CD releases, I have come to a limited appreciation of it as a genuine symptom of musical recovery. Recovery from what? From the nearly successful self-destruction of Western music over the past fourscore years. Of course, there were a number of composers who refused to participate in this self-destruction, but they generally found themselves outside the pale of what became the enervating academic orthodoxy of the music establishment.
What is especially interesting about Minimalism is that its principal practitioners were all immersed in this academic orthodoxy and at some point in their lives had to break decisively with its tenets. Therefore, to understand Minimalism as a "movement" in music, one first has to grasp the extent of the destruction preceding it, to which it is a reaction. Then one can come to appreciate Minimalism's rehabilitative role in a recovery that has already moved beyond Minimalism to a new music of astonishing spiritual virility.
The beginning of the twentieth century was a time of ferment and crisis characterized by a revulsion against the grotesqueries of bathetic Romanticism. Composers recoiled in a variety of ways. Igor Stravinsky took refuge in Neoclassical discipline and clarity. Erik Satie and Francis Poulenc tweaked noses and punctured pomposities with humor. Serge Prokofiev celebrated the new "Age of Steel" with motoric and violent hymns to the new god--the machine. Bela Bartok and Zoltan Kodaly turned to folk music for
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