greg@olivej.UUCP (Greg Paley) (08/17/84)
I feel strongly that a music critic should serve a specific function and that there are likewise specific requirements in terms of both innate talent and acquired background necessary to fulfill this function. The lack of talent and background, unfortunately, do not as easily prevent someone from becoming a critic, even one with considerable influence, as it would in the case of a performer. A voiceless singer or pianist who can't play will have trouble getting a job. In the case of the critic, however, the lack of general ability to assess the talent and performance, or even to define the actual requirements make it much easier for someone to get by without being exposed. The real harm is when such people wield a decisive influence in the making and breaking of performing careers. A scathing review, written thoughtlessly or in ignorance, can prevent a potentially great artist from obtaining the necessary contracts to launch a career. Likewise, raves for a mediocre performer cause him/her to achieve an undeserved eminence, confusing the public (particularly in the case of classical music) as well as other young would-be artists. The particular talent, as I see it, that a critic should possess is a superior degree of perceptive and analytical ability, combined with a likewise superior ability to communicate thought by means of articulate and well-written prose. The background required is a thorough knowledge of the musical idiom and performance tradition to provide perspective for the analytical abilities. In the case of classical music, this means a thorough knowledge of the score of the work being performed, since the final judgement of a classical musician's performance is how effectively he has managed to convey the composer's written intention. The function these should serve is to give as clear and accurate a report as possible of what took place during a performance and to serve as a guide to point out aspects that the critic is able to perceive to the average listener who might not be able to, at first hearing. This should include the bad as well as the good, since the possession of the taste and discernment to distinguish between them should be part of a critic's standard equipment. I do not feel that such criticism should be "constructive", i.e., serve as an aid to the performer. Nor should the critic be expected to promote musical causes, whether for financial or political reasons. Harsh as it sounds, performers who are past their best or having a bad night have no right to expect critics to be "kind" at the expense of the truth. The critic, on the other hand, has the responsibility to see to it that no personal feelings toward the performer, whether positive or negative, influence his review of the performance. This is the most difficult part of all, since it isolates the critic socially from the performers. Admittedly, critics who write and think like this are pretty rare. When found, however, I enjoy their reviews as a performance in itself, often regardless of my interest in the actual object being reviewed. Examples of this are the collected musical criticisms written by Hector Berlioz, George Bernard Shaw, and W.J. Turner. The only present-day example I can point to without reservation is B.H. Haggin (whose article on Glenn Gould in the August "Musical America" is worth catching) who, though apparently now in his 80's, still displays the mental acuity and razor-sharp perceptivity that have made his criticisms models of their kind for over 50 years. Examples of the bad variety are much easier to find and include, as far as I'm concerned, such highly reputed names as Irving Kolodin, Winthrop Sargent, Harold Schonberg, Michael Walsh in "Time" magazine, and locally (in the S.F. Bay Area) Robert Commanday and Hewell Tircuit. In addition to the poor quality of the actual writing, these all try to put a foil up around their ignorance by retreating behind an attitude of omniscience and of being above having to actually display the detailed knowledge that would support their statements. Andrew Porter, in New Yorker, falls somewhere between and betwixt. When he decides to concentrate and write well, he's superb. I'd welcome fans of the latter group to defend them and prove me wrong, since I'd always rather think good than bad of someone. - Greg Paley