opinion | Classical music doesn’t have to be ugly to be good

Consider also Eric Wolfgang Korngold, the Jewish composer from what is now the Czech Republic who went into exile with the rise of Nazi Germany. His music – from his opera “Das Wunder der Heliane” to recordings of Errol Flynn’s “The Adventures of Robin Hood” – is cleverly exquisite, not lacking in complexity but still accessible. But the dominance of casual fashion in the mid-twentieth century was such that Korngold’s music was dismissed in some quarters as mere Hollywood.kitsch. Mauceri justly and deftly refutes this rejection of Hollywood music and sees the works of John Williams (“Star Wars”!), Miklos Rosza (“Ben-Hur”) and others as a healthy and creative continuation beyond the classical romantic music tradition.

Horowitz and Mochere “What if?” Reframing the course of classical music helped me explain why I feel the way I do about different types of classical music. When I listened to Berio 30 years ago, it left me craving “Porgy and Bess.” I now know why and don’t feel any musical malaise in it. I now know why, when I saw the adventure picture of the 1940’s “The Sea Hawk”, another Flynn craft, I was so distracted by the wonderful emphasis that I kept forgetting to keep up with the plot – it was Korngold’s score. It’s respected enough by Cognoscenti registered Separately, but in the concert hall, it would likely be labeled “pops,” although there is no qualitative difference in expression or appeal from Brahms’ work.

In fact—and I doubt Horowitz or Mosseri would argue with me on this—the most structurally ambitious American musical pieces are often technically rich like “La Bohème” or “Der Rosenkavalier”. Writing for a traditionally composed orchestra in a style that focuses on melody and harmony, they stand alongside the best of Hollywood recordings as American classical music can only appear here, given the black American-born dynasty in their musical underpinnings.

For example, to return to my country previously observed The enthusiasm for Stephen Sondheim’s work, his 1964 book Anyone Can Whistle, is, to me, essential, totemic and indescribable like any opera. It depicts a sad small town, headed by a conceited mayor, sheltering a sanctuary, with an asylum nurse who is sympathetic to a tormented conman who is strangely attractive and sexy. Sondheim put this wonderfully chaos to music.

And her songsbasicIt’s a 13-minute variety about how elusive the definition of mental illness (yes!) can be with music patterns intertwined in counters and changing tempos. It’s, quite simply, genius on the level of Wagner or Strauss. Another song begins, “Me and My” Town”, harmoniously blues and impatience and turns into a crackling piece.

The orchestra alone is great – the cello rather than the violin or the violin, which makes everything sound more gloomy. There are French trumpets groaning menacingly to depict the clever, giddy scream and hot focus that will come at the start of the nurse’s ‘There Will Be No Horns’; And a solo flute that plays low on its range—almost like someone ruminating and sad to be alone—sounds to bring up the erotic romantic duo “With So Little to Be Sure Of.”

The original Broadway recording of “Anyone Can Whistle” was one of my first CDs, and there was a reason for that. It’s not just music. It is a recalibration, refraction, glossiness, the artistic mission that earlier took on “Tosca” and “Salomé”: an emotional, complex and nuanced musical drama. Classical music has turned into a lot all around us, including in the movies and even, as Mauceri notes, in the rich recordings of some of today’s advanced video games. Her story doesn’t have to be a somber descent into the work prized by a small circle of the dreary feat of evading anything as trivial as pleasing the senses.