Contemporary Composers

In Short

This book is a series of critical studies by a prominent American composer and educator, surveying the state of music in the early 1900s. Through analyses of figures like Richard Strauss, Edward Elgar, Claude Debussy, and Vincent d’Indy, the text navigates the tension between "program music"—which aims to tell stories—and "impressionism"—which prioritizes atmosphere and sensation. It serves as a plea for composers to reject shallow artifice, noise, and mechanical formulas in favor of structural integrity and genuine emotional expression, remaining a vital document for understanding the aesthetic battles of its time.

The Story

The narrative begins with a stern diagnosis of the musical landscape at the dawn of the twentieth century. The author opens by invoking Robert Louis Stevenson’s lament about an age of "stories without incident" and "music without airs," setting the stage for a critique of modern composers who, in his view, have abandoned the pursuit of beauty for the sake of novelty. He characterizes this shift as a descent into sensationalism, where composers use massive orchestras and "diabolic engines" like wind-machines simply to stun the listener. He labels this the "extensive" or "quantitative" method, arguing that it confuses volume with nobility and superficial effect with artistic substance.

The arc of the book moves from this broad cultural critique into specific portraits of the leading composers of the age. Richard Strauss is examined as the quintessential "active" temperament, a man of explosive energy whose mastery of characterization—as seen in the wit of Till Eulenspiegel—is unfortunately marred by his occasional reliance on "cloying over-sweetness" and the "saponaceous influences of opera." The author acknowledges Strauss’s genius but warns against his slide into mechanical repetition and crowd-pleasing gimmicks.

The focus then shifts to the British composer Edward Elgar, whose work is lauded for its nobility but scrutinized for a tendency toward the "mechanical regularity" of repetitive sequences. The author’s examination is deeply technical, demonstrating how a composer can either fall into "irritatingly monotonous" patterns or, conversely, achieve organic, imaginative unity through a true grasp of harmonic architecture. This leads to an exploration of Claude Debussy, whom the author treats with caution. He credits Debussy with immense originality in the "chordal" or "sensuous" style, yet he critiques this approach for prioritizing physical, aural pleasure over the "intellectual or emotional values" of traditional polyphony.

The final major movement centers on the French composer Vincent d’Indy, presented as a hero of the author’s own aesthetic. D’Indy is portrayed as a tireless crusader for beauty who balances deep scholarship—editing old classics and preserving folk songs—with the creation of profound symphonic works. The author highlights d’Indy’s ability to use "science" as the servant of "emotion," providing a model for how a composer can draw from the past to forge a path into the future. The book concludes by turning the lens back to the American context, urging young composers to avoid the "dilettante" trap of chasing fleeting trends. He argues that American music must be built on the same foundations of sincerity and rigorous craft found in the masters, asserting that the only standard worth upholding is the one that demands a sincere account of the composer’s own heart.

How It Unfolds

The diagnosis of decline The book opens by lamenting the modern obsession with "program music" and orchestral noise, which the author views as a symptom of a disquieting shift toward sensuous rather than intellectual satisfaction. He argues that this reliance on massive orchestras and "plenty of it" represents a failure of artistic restraint.

The case of Richard Strauss The author provides a detailed psychological and musical profile of Strauss, praising his vibrant characterization while criticizing his lapses into sensationalism and cheap effects. He notes that Strauss’s talent is immense, but often compromised by a desire for immediate, superficial appeal.

Technique and structure in Elgar The analysis shifts to the structural pitfalls of modern composition, using Elgar’s scores to illustrate the difference between mechanical, repetitive sequences and truly organic, imaginative development. He shows how a composer’s technical choices directly affect the listener’s ability to engage with the music's meaning.

The impressionist challenge The focus turns to Debussy and the French impressionists, contrasting their focus on "color" and "sonorities" with the older, melodic traditions. The author finds this approach intellectually hollow, arguing that it favors physical stimulation over the depth of the human spirit.

The model of the craftsman Vincent d’Indy is introduced as the archetype of the noble, hardworking composer who respects tradition while creating something new. His life and work are presented as an antidote to the "babblers" and "botchers" of the musical scene.

The call to sincerity The final section addresses the future of American music, emphasizing that skill and sincerity are the only valid metrics for success. The author closes with a firm conviction that the artist’s primary duty is to the truth of their own heart, rather than to the demands of the masses or the whims of fashion.

The People

Richard Strauss stands as the book’s most complex figure. He is an artist of "explosive nervous energy" and profound comedic talent, yet he is constantly tempted by the "saponaceous" allure of the opera house. He is a man caught between the heights of genius and the lows of sensationalism, ending up as a brilliant but uneven force.

Edward Elgar represents the struggle for formal perfection. He is a composer of significant vision, yet he is periodically hindered by a reliance on "mechanical regularity." Through the author’s critique, we see Elgar as an artist who occasionally loses his way in patterns, only to find redemption in later works of deep, imaginative mysticism.

Claude Debussy is the refined, if misguided, pioneer of the "sensuous" school. He is portrayed as a master of the "tonal rainbow," someone whose delicate, vaporous sonorities are physically delightful but ultimately lack the emotional or intellectual substance the author deems essential to great art.

Vincent d’Indy is the book's North Star. He is defined by his "indefatigable labor" and his unwavering commitment to music as a noble calling. Unlike the impressionists or the sensationalists, he uses his deep knowledge of tradition to serve the "queen" of emotion, serving as a beacon of integrity for the next generation.

In Its Own Voice

"Anyone who tries nowadays to write mere music--expressive of emotion through beauty--is more than ever 'a commonplace person.'"

The author highlights the difficulty of pursuing traditional artistic goals in a culture that rewards novelty above all else.

"The 'rag' idiom can thus be put on and off like a mask; and in recent years we have seen thus grotesquely disguised, as the Mendelssohn Wedding March, for instance, in 'No Wedding Bells for Me,' many familiar melodies."

The author uses the example of ragtime to illustrate his broader point about the superficiality of musical gimmicks that lack deep, creative roots.

"It is time, for our own sakes, that we paid more attention than we do to this human lover that finds supreme expression in the Symphony in B flat, in 'Istar,' in the E major Quartet, in the 'Jour d'Été à la Montagne.'"

The author concludes his study of Vincent d’Indy by encouraging the reader to look past the critic and teacher to find the true poet within.

What It's Really About

The central argument is that music is, first and foremost, a language of the human heart, and that its technical components—harmony, rhythm, and form—should always be subservient to the expression of deep emotion. The author warns against the "fallacy" of leveling art down to the tastes of the masses or the demands of the marketplace. He posits that true democracy in art does not mean catering to the lowest common denominator, but rather elevating the audience through the work of a "superior minority." Ultimately, the book is a meditation on the heavy cost of artistic integrity, arguing that only through rigorous, lifelong labor can a composer transcend the fleeting, noisy trends of their time to create something lasting.

Why Read It Today

Readers who love music history or are fascinated by the "culture wars" of the early twentieth century will find this an essential, if opinionated, guide. The prose is warm, precise, and occasionally biting, offering a firsthand look at how the masters we now revere—Debussy, Strauss, Elgar—were perceived by their contemporaries during a period of massive artistic upheaval. It is not an easy read for the uninitiated; the author assumes a high level of musical literacy, and his stern, sometimes elitist tone toward popular trends like ragtime or "sensationalist" orchestration reflects the strict, often Eurocentric standards of 1918.

However, the book stays with you because of its unwavering commitment to the idea that art matters. It forces the reader to confront their own relationship with music: are we seeking mere stimulation, or are we looking for something that speaks to the soul? The author’s honest struggle with the "difficulty of the aesthetic problems" of his day feels strikingly relevant in our own age of digital noise and rapid consumption. If you are interested in the transition from the Romantic to the Modern era, or if you simply appreciate the perspective of a critic who believes that "only the heart can engender beauty," this work offers a rich, challenging, and deeply sincere experience.