The History and Evolution of the Concert

Review
When the subject of the arts comes up in social circles, I know it is just a matter of
time until that subject will morph into a conversation about reviews. It’s always
fascinating how uncomfortable patrons tend to be in voicing their opinion about a
concert, film, exhibition or, for that matter, a hotel or a restaurant, but how thrilled
they are to tell you what the reviewer said about it. I always thought it interesting
that the person quoting the review hardly ever appeared concerned about other
reviews by the critic or even about what qualifications said critic has in the area
they are sent to critique.

We can’t even agree on the role of the critics, both among the critic community, the
musician community and the audience members. Everyone has an opinion; there
are even those who think all reviews are valid because everyone is entitled to an
opinion. It occurred to me that it’s worthwhile to see where the review came from to
find perspective on where it may be going.

Most agree that the first official music review appeared in Die Neue Zeitschrift für
Musik (New Journal of Music) co-founded in Leipzig by Robert Schumann, his
teacher and future father-in law Friedrich Wieck, and his close friend Ludwig
Schuncke. Its first issue appeared on 3 April 1834. Note that this magazine reviewed
music, not just concerts. Schumann, already a prodigious composer and virtuoso
pianist, gladly helped pave the way for the audiences to meet and subsequently
embrace Chopin, Berlioz and a very young Brahms. As a founding editor, Schumann
would analyze the compositional style as well as individual works by featured
composers so when audiences went to concerts programming new works, the
audiences would presumably be well aware of the style and background
information necessary for the utmost enjoyment of the music. It is unclear whether
the current trend of sprinkling new works as a small percentage of the entire
program was adopted in Schumann’s time. Empirical evidence seems to suggest that
programming music of their time was quite natural given the tradition of court
composers, court orchestras and chamber music performed by monarchs, noblemen
and just about everyone else who wanted to do something after work that would
bring pleasure to their families and friends.

As music criticism became more accepted, it took the form of an essay. Many such as
Franz Liszt, saw music the embodiment of some poetic or literary idea. Using
phrases such as “balmy freshness, seeming to exhale copious perfumes”, Liszt
conveyed the sense of the music to an audience open to learning what is new and
out there. At a time when top performances were relegated to the capitals of Europe
or the most exclusive invitation lists, these reviews were the only window the
average citizen had into what was going on in their cultural environment. The time
of critics and performers idyllically supporting each other dramatically changed
with the emergence of the Viennese critic Eduard Hanslick, currently viewed as the
father of modern criticism. Following the success of his book Vom Musikalisch-
Schönen (1854: The Beautiful in Music), he quickly embraced an analytical approach
of music and its interpretation, rejecting a purely descriptive one. One of the more
famous quotes was about the premiere of the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto and some
of the folk melodies in the finale, about which Hanslick snarled, “Tchaikovsky’s
Violin Concerto gives us for the first time the hideous notion that there can be music
that stinks to the ear.” Tchaikovsky was so deeply wounded by this review he
allegedly quoted it on his deathbed.

Virgil Thomson was the Hanslick of the United States. A graduate of Harvard,
student of Nadia Boulanger, he was a pianist, choirmaster, a composer and a
raconteur with a sharp, dry wit. When taken to task about snoozing during a
Wagner opera, he insisted he awoke if anything interesting happened. Living a life of
92 years, he left a legacy of clever one liners worthy of the best borscht-belt
comedians of the post World War II era. Some of his more famous jabs described
Sibelius’s Second Symphony as “vulgar, self-indulgent, and provincial beyond all
description.” Toscanini is described as “very little dependent on literary culture and
historical knowledge”; Vladimir Horowitz as “a master of musical distortion.” Even
the legendary Jascha Heifetz was not immune to Thomson who reviewed the now
legendary recording of the Beethoven Concerto with the Boston Symphony and
Serge Koussevitzky this way: “Four-starred super-luxury hotels are a legitimate
commerce. The fact remains, however, that there is about their machine-tooled
finish and empty elegance something more than just a trifle vulgar.”

Incidentally, Thompson’s music is virtually unknown in the concert hall, though I

doubt there is some sort of conspiracy on the part of the performing industry.

In today’s day and age, many critics have taken Hanslick’s idea of analysis to the nth
degree. They have a torch, whether it is decrying the absence of enough new music
on the programs of the world’s great concert halls or complaining about cellphones
ringing at the most inopportune time during a performance. Thus the question
becomes: is there a standard for music criticism? Is it anything goes (or sells)? Or
can the reader demand veracity and content?

The answer is further complicated by the readers. Some want to read about it so
they don’t waste time and considerable resources on a concert the critic didn’t like.
This is a pretty shortsighted approach because anyone who goes to concerts
regularly will have a “did I go to the same concert?” story when reading a
particularly audacious review. Others need to make decisions quickly so they follow
a publication they consider reputable and make their decisions accordingly. Others
still care about where to be seen, so a bad review, in their minds, won’t warrant
enough “important” people to be seen with to give the concert a chance.

Music criticism, like the performance of music, is an evolving art form. It ought to be
different from year to year. It should celebrate creativity and encourage a
relationship between the music, the musician and the audience. I personally most
enjoy the review that puts me in the seat next to the critic. I want to know what they
heard and, more importantly, why it did or didn’t work for them. Once a review
morphs into a music history lecture, or worse, how much more learned the critic is
than the reader, it loses the reason one reads the review to begin with. In short, we
read to find out “how did that performance go?” There is time for philosophy and
musings but not in a 300-500 word concert review.

Finally, when it comes to rants it would be nice to know they are warranted.
Someone who rants every other review weakens their outrage. They just appear to
be angry, thus lessening the reader’s attention when the reviewer wants to have
their full concentration. Save the outrage for when it is actually warranted! Constant
harping on minutia is equal to constant complimenting – it dulls the impact of the
review and loses the reader’s attention. Instead, let’s hear more about what moved
the reviewer in either the positive or negative direction and why. Enquiring minds
really do want to know!