Alex Ross, the New Yorker's wonderful music critic, on the strange and amusing history of how the classical music concert assumed its present form -- which, as he notes, often seems to constrain rather than unleash the music.
- Log in to post comments
More like this
Music is alive and well
I long ago grew weary of complaints about the demise of classical music -- a demise based on dropping sales and and market share. Similar complaints had been voiced about tennis, another thing I love. In both cases the hand-wringing about falling ticket or record sales or…
A couple of the shinier stones I've come across on the web lately:
Somatosphere is a new blog about medical anthropology (think sociology and politics of medicine, only with a bit more critical distance; it's about how culture shapes medicine) written by McGill University post-doc Eugene Raikhel…
Alex Ross, music critic for the New Yorker, thinks that he has found a great new composer. There's only one catch: this composer doesn't even know how to read or write music. (Did I mention she's also a kitten?):
It is risky to attempt an analysis of such an intricate musical conception after only…
A few regulars who drop by for grooming sessions and pant-hoots at the Refuge are probably aware that I am a long time J. Robert Oppenheimer fangrrl, or more accurately at my age, a fancrone. So when I discovered that Doctor Atomic was playing at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, I impulsively…