I am probably the wrong person to ask but as a Zen Buddhist I tend to go into any piece without expectations. I clear my mind of constructs and listen to a new piece on its own terms before interpretation.

 

You have a unique capacity albert. It takes me a while to appreciate the individuality of something, sometimes.

I like when I have to work to appreciate the individuality of a piece. I have a special interest in Haydn symphonies, Scarlatti sonatas, CPE Bach keyboard concerti, and various concerti grossi, partly for this reason. I have a slice of what Haydn or other said composer was thinking(musically) at that time, but since there is much shared musical language, it can be difficult to hear several successive symphonies from a similar period of his output, without the third or fourth one sounding too analogous to the first or second, especially where box sets and the same conductors are concerned. But there will be a craft and a form to each that is worth distinguishing from the other, and I'll come back and listen to any given piece I heard out of the blue, and the magic will happen.

 

I find this to be this case with books, music, art, etc:

There is a tendency for anyone to have an expectation of what the new work will be like before actually experiencing it. As a result the fresh experience is compared with what the expectation is. As a result, I believe, the new work is less often accepted on it's own terms.

Small case in point: I am a trumpeter and have always loved the Hindemith Trumpet Sonata - beautiful, haunting themes that relate to death and war. I have recently been listening to Hindemith's Viola Concerto "Der Schwanendreher." Of course the title should tell me that the piece has nothing to do with war, but I can't help but compare it in my mind to the trumpet sonata. Silly, perhaps, but also, kind-of inevitable. As a result I have been resistant to liking the piece.

I also think that those that have a love of so-called traditional classical music have difficulty coming to terms with much of what is contemporary art music for similar reasons. They expect Thomas Ades, Wolfgang Rihm, and Peter Maxwell Davies to be tuneful as much as, perhaps, Shostakovich, Copland, or even Debussy. It can be difficult to clear the mind and accept the new experience without any preconceptions or bias.

What are your thought on this?

Feel free to tell me I'm full of ****. I think I can handle it (or I'll work it through with my therapist).

There's no use in telling anyone how to be "open" to new kinds of music, unless they have already decided that they wish to make a real effort to relate to it as art.

Conversely, there's no use in broadcasting the opinion that "new music is horrible" if one has already formed this opinion, and then uses that personal opinion to try to invalidate the music itself, as if that opinion were reflective of the music itself.

Our opinions are our own, and they demand that we be responsible for them. It is irresponsible to suggest otherwise.

Therefore, we should all stop thinking and talking about "the tendency for anyone to have an expectation of what a new work will be like before actually experiencing it, which compares the fresh experience to what the expectation is, and as a result the new work is less often accepted," unless we are inviting a defensive response from those listeners who have already solidified their opinions. In that case, both sides will be "broadcasting opinions" which are more properly "owned" personally, and require that we "take responsibility for our own opinions" and stop trying to "denigrate" or "convert."

However, if this "personal opinion responsibility line" is crossed, and opinions are used to denigrate music, or defend music, then I have no compunction about pointing this out, in order to defend the music of which I have already formed an opinion.

 

An interesting post with a lot for me to think about, millionrainbows. I had to read it a few times to get to what I think you are getting at - that there is little use in reminding others to be open-minded.

"Therefore, we should all stop thinking and talking about "the tendency..."

But on this I'll disagree. I find it helpful to be reminded of this as it can help me more fully appreciate any new experience.

 

An interesting post with a lot for me to think about, millionrainbows. I had to read it a few times to get to what I think you are getting at - that there is little use in reminding others to be open-minded....

But on this I'll disagree. I find it helpful to be reminded of this as it can help me more fully appreciate any new experience.

I think it may not be so useful to simply remind people to be open-minded. Most people think they are open-minded so a reminder won't really change the way they listen. Perhaps more importantly is to suggest that new music is different in ways the listener (even an open-minded listener) may not realize. In other words, some may benefit from being taught a bit how to listen to new music (or what to listen for).

I hit a pretty sturdy wall with much modern music until I realized that I was listening for things that were not in the music and not listening to things that were. One might call that closed-minded, but certainly just telling me to be open-minded would not have helped.

 

But on the flip side, I think it is true that people learn to like what they WANT to learn to like. It could, I imagine, become a branch of science, studying why one person likes what they like.

Maybe I'm just spinning in circles. It made sense when I first posted it!

 

One of the things I most love about contemporary music is that I don't know what I'm going to hear when I push "play." I might get smashed with a wall of sound, I might have to strain to hear; there might be arpeggios for forty minutes, or I might not recognize a single chord-like structure; it might be pianos and strings and winds, or it might be taped noise played backwards; who knows?

We inevitably have some kind of expectations when we begin to hear a piece, but they may well be all subconscious, and most of mine are. Usually I just have a sense of, "people whose tastes I basically share admire this, so whatever it is, it must be good."

 

As it is, it is nearly impossible for anyone from a western culture "to think of nothing." Your experience is one I think most anyone from these cultures shares. I do think the wider your listening range, you can either end up with a massive bundle of expectations, or realizing those are a bundle of expectations, and some expectations within that bundle vary greatly from other expectations as per the particular pieces, end up more in the arena which Science so well said, i.e. realize then that even from one piece to the next from the same composer, that you really can not 'know what to expect.'

With all our predisposed tendencies to think, to immediately have all past associations with music with us whenever we hear a piece new to us, I think allowing the piece to be what it is and just let it play, 'run with it,' is an ideal.

As per your personal expectation of Hindemith, add to your particular bundle of expectations the experience of the general nature of a lot of music written for the trumpet: signal like configurations, taps (elegies) and triumphal associations must, I think, flood in. Many a composer will reflexively write well for an instrument, a lot of those generic gestures having been found to be what that instrument does especially well. A very specific set of 'conventions,' (yep, that's what they are) are then in your collective memory data banks due to 'trumpet bias', and instrumental bias for any player is next to impossible to drop or erase. I'm a little better off having 'done' piano for so long, i.e. polyphony (not necessarily counterpoint, just multiplicity of parts) and the fact that all the instruments of an orchestra are nothing like may give me an easier access -- or less distraction -- than that of TC's flute player whom I love to tease whenever she mentions a work and in nearly the same breath is impelled to comment on the flute part! (That flautist is no different from many of my personal musician pals and how 'they hear the world' from their perspectives as horn player, violist, etc. I cannot help but notice more if there is a piano part in a symphonic score, a conditioned reflex, lol

Because I have so much playing and listening data in my memory banks, whenever I am aware of that coming in to play, I consciously work at "meeting the new piece on its own terms." Sure, I have criteria for 'what is a piece that works,' but those too, are pretty wide since I've been into contemporary music as well as standard common practice and older rep for quite some time, i.e. I am not at all 'looking for tunes,' or expecting familiar forms or musical syntax.

Realizing what one is about to hear 'could be anything' is often enough to at least relax one's expectations enough to hear it better for 'what it is.' Certainly, it never does anything worthwhile to measure a thing by what it is not?

Somewhere on TC, lately, I did interject in a post, "Whatever happened to just listening and feeling it." Even for me, with all the training and experience, that preempts just about anything else when I listen, to familiar music or to the new.

 

The best example of this that I can think of is the following:
Me one year ago: "Urgh, this Schoenberg is meaningless noise!"
Yesterday: *humming Schoenberg*

I think the problem of listening to music expecting it to be something else can usually be solved by repeated listening. That way you get used to the piece as it is.

 

I think the problem of listening to music expecting it to be something else can usually be solved by repeated listening. That way you get used to the piece as it is.

Excellent point. This is how I usually deal with the problem.

 

I think one's expectations are more realistically based on the composer than on whether something is contemporary/traditional or not. A lot of so-called contemporary music, say from Schönberg (quasi a beginning) to Boulez (one of the old garde still living), is actually already very old. Where does one begin calling something contemporary? At the point where many start to not like it?

But anyway...

When I hear a piece by Elliott Carter, for example, that I've never before heard, I expect it to sound like Carter and I expect to like it as much as I like other Carter pieces. I cannot divorce myself from these expectations. I would never expect Carter to sound like Brahms or Haydn or Schnittke or Debussy...

 

I prefer to accept visual art and music on my terms. They are open enough to let in all I have time for.

 

You know, come to think of it, what are "terms" in this context?

Is it a superficial thing, like, "I like music that sounds pretty the first time I hear it." Is that all we mean?

Maybe the reason I haven't had the kind of romantic struggle with classical music that people are almost supposed to have is that my terms are wrong.

 

I have, even of late, grappled with the "problem" of "deciphering" modern music. I accomplished my goals by reading books, and trying to understand what the composer's language is.

In the case of Elliot Carter, I liked the music before knowing more about it technically. It did seem "unforgiving" in a sense, as if it were a self-sustaining system which gave no concession to any human listener, existing only for itself, according to some arcane set of Platonic or mathematical rules which justify its structure and existence, regardless of its audience; and to a large extent, this still holds true.

A sense of mystery surrounded it; it seemed impenetrable, and on purpose, as if Carter were expounding a secret language that I would never fully penetrate; and to a large extent, it still seems impenetrable.

But part of the problem was that I was trying to penetrate, by listening, on a "surface level" of harmonic meaning, as I was wont to do with Bach, Haydn, even Schoenberg; which works with sensual, visceral music; but after reading, after knowing what Carter's musical language consisted of, I realized that this level would never yield any answers in and of itself. I needed to understand, and realize what Carter the artist was doing, his gestures, his strategies, his "art."

I will admit, though, that understanding (through reading and knowledge) Carter's basic musical vocabulary, and the possible sets of notes he was drawing from, explained much, and left me free to explore the other aspects of his artistry. It turns out that Carter's language is serial in nature, as it draws from the same possible sets of notes that Forte and Rahn listed in their indexes of all possible sets; but that Carter, like any good serial artist, had devised his own system, and organized it in his own way, to his own purposes.

After that, Carter could implement this material in his own peculiar ways, drawing on his interest in theatre, "characters", and literary devices.

A similar situation faced me, when I decided that, although I already liked Bartok's music, I did not really fully understand what he was doing. After reading Antokoletz' and Erno Lendvai, I understood enough of Bartok's methods to where I could actually apply this information in my listening. I heard local tonal centers, and began to unravel the mystery.

To repeat, I already listened to and enjoyed this music, and I understood it as far as my ears would allow me to; but the cerebral factor of knowledge enhanced this enjoyment further, to a deeper level for me.

I suspect that there will come a day, maybe sooner than later, when I "cycle back around" to simply listening again, and will have arrived full-circle, back to a pure sensual listening experience, having absorbed all the knowledge to the point that it becomes unconscious, intuitive, and purely experiential.

This is the nature of ear/brain. I suspect that my cat is evolving as well; he seems to be listening intently, staring into space, to this strange new sound the primates call "music."

 

I am in my late sixties and I have gone through various phases concerning aesthetics.

At one time I was obsessed with David Baker's concepts of 'varied repetition'. (Note: Baker used to be the head of the jazz department and Indiana State.)

I think I addressed your query in an old post of mine (bad grammar and all). You might find it helpful: http://www.talkclassical.com/25155-accessibility-contemporary-works.html?highlight=experience#post450320

 

I really value mystery, myself. More since reading Herbert Brün, but still, quite a lot. And I really miss not being able ever again to hear the Carter Double concerto that was my first Carter piece. I can still hear the sonata for flute, oboe, and cello, probably because it made more sense to me from the get go. But I will never ever be able to hear the Double concerto that was my first exposure to Mr. Carter's music. The one I can hear today, the one that makes perfect sense, is fine, of course. It's delightful, and I enjoy listening to it very much. But it's not the one I first heard. That one is lost forever.

So I treasure that brief moment of mystery. It doesn't last.

Anyway, more to the point of the thread, Jon Christopher Nelson pointed out to me several years ago that any piece will tell you how to listen to it. I'd never thought of it that way before, but it's certainly true. Here's what he said in an interview:

"Well, in a general way, I think I understand music as many do, by grouping materials together if they are similar and parsing them if they're divergent. Similar meaning a consistent use of texture, rhythm, harmony, timbre, register, or even rate of change. On one extreme, a minimalistic work severely limits the musical materials and uses constant repetition to minimize the surface changes. In this context, miniscule changes in the patterns and contrapuntal relationships or the resultant phasing relationships can create a strong sense of motion from one section to another. In contrast is John Zorn's cartoon music, with whiplash changes in style and constant interruption of ideas. If we hear snippets of divergent styles and genres that only last several seconds, never allowed to reach some level of repose, then we are likely to understand a longer passage with a more continuous musical statement as a large formal or structural change.

I suspect that I enjoy music when I have some sense of expectation and can either experience the satisfaction of having these expectations fulfilled or be pleasantly surprised when the music takes another path."

I looked for rough drafts of this, but couldn't find any. My memory of what he said is different from these words, more directed to how pieces give information about how to listen to them, but I uncharacteristically don't seem to have anything but the finished interview.

Sigh.

 

I really value mystery, myself. And I really miss not being able ever again to hear the Carter Double concerto that was my first Carter piece...I will never ever be able to hear the Double concerto that was my first exposure to Mr. Carter's music. The one I can hear today, the one that makes perfect sense, is fine, of course. It's delightful, and I enjoy listening to it very much. But it's not the one I first heard. That one is lost forever...So I treasure that brief moment of mystery. It doesn't last...Sigh.

John Cage's works will never sound the same way twice, so that solves that problem.

 

Too much of my taste is accidental:I find it hard to know what I'm bringing to music.

My route out of a Bel Canto rut ( and my path to loving 20th century classical ) was actually accidental. I was in my mid teens and had one of those aria compellation CDs, and right in the middle was a track I ( at the time ) hated: Elektra's opening monologue in Strauss's Elektra. It sounded noisy and antithetical to the lyrical qualities I loved in in opera. But skipping it would require me to get up and skip to the next track. Ultimately, my own laziness compelled me to listen through it a couple times, and gradually... I found myself loving it.

Since then, I've found myself more and more likely to listen to music that doesn't initially commend itself to me. Sometimes a breakthrough happens; sometimes I never warm to it, but I'm not easily convinced by my initial feeling on anything, in case I rob myself of future pleasures.

 

Too much of my taste is accidental:I find it hard to know what I'm bringing to music.

My route out of a Bel Canto rut ( and my path to loving 20th century classical ) was actually accidental. I was in my mid teens and had one of those aria compellation CDs, and right in the middle was a track I ( at the time ) hated: Elektra's opening monologue in Strauss's Elektra. It sounded noisy and antithetical to the lyrical qualities I loved in in opera. But skipping it would require me to get up and skip to the next track. Ultimately, my own laziness compelled me to listen through it a couple times, and gradually... I found myself loving it.

Since then, I've found myself more and more likely to listen to music that doesn't initially commend itself to me. Sometimes a breakthrough happens; sometimes I never warm to it, but I'm not easily convinced by my initial feeling on anything, in case I rob myself of future pleasures.

Elektra's opening aria is one of my favorites in all of opera. I love the insanity of it, especially near the end when she is screeching at the top of her lungs about murdering people with such joyous and triumphant music the in the background.