What is the parallel between Khatchaturian's cello concerto and Kadinsky's painting? Lately I've grown increasingly interested in listening to contemporary and 20th century classical music. I've avoided this 'sub-genre' ever since I started listening to classical music, and I haven't really had the guts to give it a decent chance until recently.
My first experience with classical music - meaning the first time where I actually began to appreciate the music and not just accept it as a pleasant background sound - was through the film Amadeus. I was amazed by the story of Mozart's life and started tracking down recordings of his works; whether it be symphonies, sonatas, sacral works or opera. After a while my taste expanded to Bach and Händel and a lot of other composers, but with the mere exception of Tchaikovsky, I never listened to works by 19th or 20th century composers. Instead I developed an interest for "early music" and renaissance works, especially works for the countertenor voice.
In my mind, all of these works have one thing in common - logic. When I listen to it, it "makes sense". As the listener I can feel as though I am witnessing perfection; it couldn't be done any other way, it doesn't evoke any curiosity or raise any questions - historically perhaps, but not musically. (Not to say that the works are shallow and express no deeper meaning - particularly in religious works, such as Bach's aria "Erbarme Dich, Mein Gott" you can really feel the 'message' in the music.)
Then it dawned on me how much music I have yet to hear - what enormous amounts of music that might bring me hours of listening pleasure, if I only discovered it. But where should I start?
I ended up buying a cd containing a violin concerto and cello concerto by Adam Khachaturian - I must admit the choice was made based on my recognition of one of the performers; Daniel Müller Schott, who I had seen in concert a while back. I went home and put it in the cd player, completely open-minded, or so I thought.
By the sound of the first note I admit my first thought was "oh no!" After I'd forced myself to listen to the whole concerto, I was almost upset that someone had the nerve to call this - which to my mind sounded like a meaningless mess of melodies, rhythms and instruments - classical music. It had nothing of the qualities I expected from a classical work, even though I knew there were works like that out there, of course. I refused to believe that people would actually sit down and listen to this as a way of enjoying themselves.
My own reaction got me thinking.
I found in interesting that the reason for my disliking the piece, was that I didn't understand it. It made no sense whatsoever to me. When I closed my eyes, my mind didn't draw pictures from the music like it did when I listened to Bach or Mozart. I started to realize that perhaps I tend to exclude contemporary compositions because the images don't come to me by themselves; I can't sit there as a passive listener, I have to actively take part to make some reason out of the piece. Which can be a challenging and at times exhausting task. I applied my theory to the mentioned cello concerto and listened to it again, and by the end I felt mentally tired. The effect was positive though; I experienced the music in a completely different way, which again turned out to be a bigger source of creativity than when I'd listened to baroque music.
I also found it interesting to apply my theory to the way a lot of people experience modern, abstract art (not necessarily recent installations or performance/multimedia pieces, but also 20th century art). If they don't understand it, their minds tend to avoid it. They are upset by the fact that someone "can call themselves artists by applying a blob of red paint on a canvas; anyone can do that". When we look at a traditional still-life, our minds recognize the shapes as objects and are comforted by the logic, the perfection. When looking at a 20th century painting like perhaps a work by Kadinsky, with all its 'flying' objects and shapes, we don't understand it. We're used to logic, our eyes find no rest. But what if we really make up our minds to create our own story behind the motive, instead of being upset because the 'solution' isn't served to us on a golden platter, with no effort on our part?
It's perhaps a side effect of our modern society where everything is based on convenience - we can tend to avoid things that require us to go 'the long way around', even if it involves a positive outcome; a sort of reward.
