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Survival of the Fittest? Probably Not: The Classical Canon’s Unfair Formation
Portrait of Cristoph Willibald Gluck / Getty Images
Have you ever heard of Beethoven? If you live anywhere in the Western world, the answer is probably yes. Similarly, most people are familiar with Tchaikovsky’s Waltz of the Flowers, even if not by name. But have you heard of Busoni? Gluck? Palestrina? If you’re not a musician or an avid listener of classical music, it’s unlikely you have ever come across these
names, even though, like Beethoven and Tchaikovsky, they had an immense impact on the development of Western music and culture.
This modern day obscurity is not a question of accessibility or style; These three composers represent three different time periods, geographical regions, and cultures, and their music is often indiscernible from that of their more well-known colleagues. It also has little to do
with having fame during their lifetimes; all three were very well known in life and for many years after.
Why then, do we know of Beethoven and Tchaikovsky, but not of Busoni, Gluck, Palestrina, or the thousands of other composers who have faded into the depths of history? I have found that it often has more to do with Western culture’s attitudes toward certain types of music and composers than with any actual, objective musical quality.
One trait that has tended to ensure lasting fame for composers of a particular musical approach is that of the contrapuntal tradition. Contrapuntal music refers to the compositional technique of combining multiple, independent melodic lines to make up the entirety of a musical texture, with strict (depending on the time period) rules to ensure the
independence of each line. J.S. Bach in particular is regarded as a musical God from which all music of the Western tradition is derived, a status he achieved entirely from his mastery of the contrapuntal technique. Ironically, Bach was not nearly as well known during his own time as it wasn’t until Felix Mendelssohn led the “Bach Revival” in the
mid-nineteenth century, indicating that perhaps Bach’s fame, and thus the importance of contrapuntal music, is an artificial phenomenon.
Christoph Willibald Gluck was a prominent composer in both Vienna and Paris, holding positions in the Habsburg Court and working for Marie Antoinette.
While polyphonic music (music using contrapuntal techniques), has drifted in and out of favor several times over the last 400 years, its practitioners have consistently held firm places in the classical canon. In some cases, merely demonstrating mastery of polyphony has upheld their superior status even as their music would have otherwise likely fallen out of the public eye. For example, Richard Wagner and Arnold Schnoenberg1 both wrote radically inaccessible music which not many concertgoers today know very well, but are both nonetheless considered an important part of the canon due in large part to their place in the same contrapuntal tradition as Bach. Their fame comes at the expense of composers who fell outside of this tradition, such as Giacamo Meyerbeer. While Meyerbeer was wildly popular during his own time, his music is now viewed more as a historical artifact than as a worthwhile body of work.
It is important to note two qualities of polyphonic music which could also have contributed to its endurance. The first is its intellectual connotation. Because of the complexity of interlocking musical lines and the required understanding of the rules to effectively do so, polyphonic composers have come to be seen as intellectually superior to their colleagues. As the mono-maniacal pursuit of knowledge came to be valued above all else in Western society, perceived intellectual superiority became a defining factor in placing composers into a hierarchical canon.
Giacamo Meyerbeer was an extremely popular operatic composer in the early 19th century.
It is important to note two qualities of polyphonic music which could also have contributed to its endurance. The first is its intellectual connotation. Because of the complexity of interlocking musical lines and the required understanding of the rules to effectively do so, polyphonic composers have come to be seen as intellectually superior to their colleagues. As the mono-maniacal pursuit of knowledge came to be valued above all else in Western society, perceived intellectual superiority became a defining factor in placing composers into a hierarchical canon.
The second quality is that many of these composers were German.2 With the vast majority of important composers being German, it is undeniable that there is a connection between Austro-Germanic musical culture from the eighteenth to twentieth centuries and the body of work which we internationally revere today. We can see this in our common concert etiquette; Before late nineteenth-century German culture came to dominate classical music practices, it was common to clap in between movements, and even in the middle of pieces, while going to the symphony was much less a formal display of status or sophistication.
The most likely explanation for the prominence of German music has to do with Vienna, within which the powerful Habsburg dynasty encouraged music education and created institutions to support the arts. Apart from creating a society where music thrives, the Viennese nobility oversaw many musical institutions, allowing them to skew the traditional performance repertoire in favor of German composers to form part of the canon we know today.
Additionally, the Lutheran faith strongly encouraged musical participation, educating the general population in music and introducing German music to the Americas as they emigrated.
As these two factors might explain why our history books seem to be filled with German composers, they also provide reasoning for the absence of musicians of other nationalities in the canon. Russia, for example, was a poor, powerless country for many generations whose Eastern Orthodox Church banned musical instruments. This is why we don’t know of any Russian composers from before the nineteenth century, when the country gained power and the church lost support.
Also contributing to a composer’s lasting memory in the canon, perhaps more obviously, is the environment and ideological perception which their music and person occupied in life. For example, the revolutionary spirit of Beethoven’s music and personality coincided with the Age of Revolutions. This is evident in the well-known story of Beethoven dedicating his third symphony to Napoleon, but angrily rescinding his dedication after Napoleon declared himself emperor. Similarly, Mozart would most certainly not have become the towering figure he is today if his music didn’t so strictly stick to the musical forms of the enlightenment.
The manuscript of Beethoven’s Third Symphony, with “Bonaparte” scratched out and replaced by “Eroica,” or, “Heroic.”
It’s important to note that a radical departure from musical norms doesn’t necessitate a failure in satisfying the requirements of one’s environment. As is in the case of Beethoven, sometimes a changing society needs innovative music. In other words, there are certain times in history where innovation is met with success, and other times in which it brings failure.
Whether the intellectual environment of a composer’s upbringing is a cause or a consequence of their success is inconsequential; Composers that fell outside of surrounding cultural expectations and needs were forgotten either way.
It goes without saying that composers who weren’t accepted in their respective societies in the first place were denied from being in the classical canon. This has caused the music of innumerable minorities throughout history to be unknown or completely lost, while those without the financial means to share or publish their music also never saw the light of fame. Julius Eastman, for example, occupied both, being a gay, black composer who, forgotten from the vibrant musical community he used to be part of, died impoverished on the streets of New York.
Throughout its formation over the last 400 years, the classical canon has repeatedly failed to fairly represent all deserving composers. Scholars are continuing to reveal how the biases of certain musicians over the years are evident in which composers we know and don’t know.
Fortunately, the coming of the Digital Age revived much valuable history by providing easy access to music which previously would have been nearly impossible to obtain. In just several years, some composers went from being completely unknown to receiving nearly as much praise as their established contemporaries; Through the help of the internet, the miraculous discovery of Florence Price’s manuscripts in a dilapidated shed in Illinois in 2009 marked her rapid ascension from being merely a historical curiosity to a trailblazer, the first notable African-American woman composer. Many orchestras are picking up on this new era of rediscovery and beginning to program works by lesser known composers. Between the vibrant online listening community and reimagined concert programs, it seems that the institutions upholding classical music, which were for centuries weighed down by the flawed canon, are finally being freed from the blind regurgitation of known works and instead moving toward a more open-minded view of history.
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