The Rest Is Noise (Alex Ross)

 --The blurb--
"The Rest Is Noise is a sweeping musical history from pre-war Vienna to the Velvet Underground. In this comprehensive tour, Alex Ross, music critic for the 'New Yorker', explores the people and places that shaped musical development: Adams to Zweig, Brahms to Bjork, pre-First World War Vienna to 'Nixon in China'. Winner of the Guardian First Book Award, this portrait of an exceptional era weaves together art, politics and cultural history to show how twentieth-century classical music was both a symptom and a source of immense social change."

--The review--
When it comes to works of art, the critical world is frequently split between the separate values of intrinsic and extrinsic reading. Just how vital are the contexts of an artist's personal life and the historical and political scenes in which they grew up to interpretation of their work? Alex Ross' The Rest Is Noise is a firm supporter of extrinsic interpretation, but combines both beautifully to add pace, engagement and a multitude of colours to an already interesting cultural mosaic.

Ross treads the fine line between academics and accessibility largely with skill, although some readers may feel lost by the more detailed discussions relating to key signatures and so on. On the other hand, people whose interest is such that they're reading such an in-depth book on the subject will likely already have a good grasp of the meanings of technical terms (even if 'knowing meanings' and 'listening, identifying and analysing' are two very different skills). The interdisciplinary nature of Ross' work is also appealing, with topics as diverse as Stalin, Disney, and John Donne being discussed. The author handles the jumps between topics and countries well, with the possible exception of dwelling too much on Britten (a whole chapter on one composer seems excessive, especially when a good proportion of it was devoted to a long-winded synopsis of Peter Grimes). However, the tome is mostly inspiring and urges us to listen: even though the chapters appear long, these are happily split into smaller chunks.

As the length of the book suggests, Ross covers an impressive range of music. One could argue that the depth of examples given is so great that The Rest Is Noise would be better as an audiobook: a soundtrack list is provided at the end of the book, but to listen and read simultaneously is not always practical, whereas an audiobook could interject with excerpts or even full works appropriately. Despite the limitations of the book's format, though, Ross does an excellent job of proving the present-day relevance of various twentieth-century works, including several by Kurt Weill (think Pirate Jenny and Mack The Knife), and the significance of a number of little-known artists from this century (such as Marian Anderson). Through this historical approach, Ross shows us the value of interpreting music extrinsically, even if at times he delivers his opinions in a manner that dresses them up as fact (which can add expertise and authority, but also takes a text into risky territory).

Contemporary observations from other musical spheres also increase the relevance of classical music to fans of other forms of music, or to those who know little about the classical genre. Comparing Copland's Fanfare For The Common Man to Queen's We Will Rock You in terms of rhythm and melody is an astute remark, and on further inspection, readers will find such comparisons wherever they look in the world of music: Puccini's Humming Chorus compares closely melodically to Les Misérables' Bring Him Home, for example.

In light of such insightful assertions, then, the occasional sloppiness in terms of formatting is disappointing. Part Three of the book, which encompasses the years 1945-2000, also seems to cover far too great a passage of time compared to the previous parts, which made more sense in their division (effectively World War Two and the years preceding this conflict). The book's glossary also only seems to be available online, which is a shame: an extensive glossary and cycle of fifths in the paper edition would be most helpful. Syntax is clumsy at times, too, and Ross occasionally generalises or makes ill-considered statements (for example, dubbing the BBC the finest purveyor of classical radio programming in the world, without considering other stations such as Italy's Rai Radio Tre, which plays complete works without adverts). However, none of this detracts too significantly from Ross' apparent belief that music cannot achieve complete autonomy from the society around it, and the convincingness with which he backs this up - naturally composers are not only influenced by and are part of their culture, but also influence what comes after them.

This arena of influence is largely described by Ross as being heavily centred around Europe and America, and it seems difficult to believe that there was really nothing musically significant going on in Australia, Asia and so on during the twentieth century. The closest the author comes to this is mentioning traditional music fro the Andes, Bali, India and Japan in relation to Messaien in Chapter 13. Film music also gets a look-in here, although it (and musicals) arguably deserve more airtime. The link between contemporary and classical is cleverly reinforced in Chapter 14, with Ross highlighting the Beatles' admiration for Stockhausen, Stravinsky's influence on Charlie Parker, and Coltrane's love of Bartok. Naturally, though, we all have different notions of importance and it would have been impossible for Ross to include every even remotely influential figure in The Rest Is Noise: although it doesn't stop the reader from feeling that a few have been unjustly left out, such as Ludovico Einaudi and Joe Hisaishi, who have both been hugely popular since the 1980s. Equally, the impact of the Cultural Revolution on China's ability to have real influence could have been given more attention.

So what is the 'noise' and the 'rest' of Ross' title? Several possibilities can be inferred. What some listeners may consider 'noise' is often used to show off composers' and performers' virtuosity as part of quite lyrical works, rather than acting ostensibly and primarily as a source of pleasure. Composers, as 'invisible' men, often had to become visible (i.e., they had to make some noise), as their future depended on it. Even conversation (also 'noise') has lyrical and musical qualities thanks to phonetics, and conversation can take the form of opposition, which too could seem like 'noise', with the controversy of some classical music at the time of its release perhaps being perceived as 'noise' compared to 'approved' music. Classical music can also be deliberately and literally noise, with Ross pointing out not just the most famous example of John Cage's 4'33", but also the lesser-known examples of Imaginary Landscape #4 (also by Cage) and Cinq Etudes de Bruits (by Pierre Schaeffer). Conversely, classical music could be thought of as something pure and to be revered, with 'the rest' being 'noise' (although the positive links Ross makes between classical, folk, film and rock music make this a more tenuous hypothesis). Finally, all that is going on around composers historically and politically is noise, and as Ross is keen to point out, such noise is influential.

Ross also considers the influence of all this 'noise' in the twenty-first century, depicting a mixed future for the art, although perhaps without fully considering the impact of crossover music (through groups such as All Angels) and publications (such as the Classic FM magazine). Nevertheless, the breadth of his work means that virtually everyone will find something they're familiar with, whether it's the Velvet Underground, David Bowie, Missy Elliott, Public Enemy, Philip Glass, or Michael Nyman. This all-encompassing influence of classical music is nicely summed up by Ross, who simultaneously recognises the role of composition today by way of conclusion, neatly demonstrating its continued relevance in our "decentered culture". And with the formation of history and culture as active and vital today as they ever were, it's crucial that composers continue to tell that story for future generations. With luck, Ross will continue to do the same through his writings.

other works by Alex Ross
Listen To This (2011)

Incomplete and Utter History of Classical Music (Stephen Fry and Tim Lihoreau)

--The blurb--
"In his Incomplete & Utter History of Classical Music, Stephen Fry presents a potted and [...] rambling 700-year history of classical music and the world as we know it. Along this musical journey he casually throws in references to pretty much whatever takes his fancy, from the Mongol invasion of Russia and Mr Khan (Genghis to his friends), the founding of the MCC, the Black Death (which once again became the new black in England), to the heady revolutionary atmosphere of Mozart's Don Giovanni and the deep doo-doo that Louis XVI got into (or 'du-du' as the French would say).
It's all here - Ambrose and early English plainsong, Bach, Mozart (beloved of mobile phones everywhere), Beethoven, Debussy, Wagner (the old romantic), right up to the present day."

--The review--
"Stephen Fry...national treasure...", opens a certain Weebl video. And certainly very few could argue with that. Beloved by many, he frequently graces our television screens, not least as part of legendary comedies Blackadder and Jeeves and Wooster, as well as (more recently) on intellectual TV pop quizzes such as QI and Never Mind The Buzzcocks. He also regularly graces the nation's bookshelves thanks to his autobiographies and books on poetry. In 2004, he released his Incomplete and Utter History of Classical Music in partnership with Tim Lihoreau, a musician who works closely with radio station Classic FM. Although the book is ghostwritten by Lihoreau, Fry's inimitable style and humour comes through strongly, and the idiosyncratic and at times paradoxical nature of this is also encapsulated in the book's title, which combines modesty and deliberately gross exaggeration in equal measure.

This Lihoreau-Fry lovechild has many merits, presenting the history of classical music in a concise and accessible manner. As Fry rightly points out on multiple occasions in the tome, there's nothing wrong with accessibility. So what if someone only knows Grieg's Hall Of The Mountain King from the Alton Towers advert? It's better than not knowing it at all. However, one could also argue that it's a little like reading Harry Potter or Twilight: great if you're reading, but not so great if you never move on to anything else. One of the many joys of classical music (and indeed almost any music) is the seemingly endless scope for the analysis of different interpretations, and just as many of us have multiple copies of Cry Me A River, Summertime, Blackbird or Somewhere Over The Rainbow kicking around, we fulfil different needs by having several recordings of, say, Handel's Giulio Cesare, and infinitely exploring its various nuances and emphases. This is something that is little mentioned (if at all) by the Fry-Lihoreau team - but then again, this book is only billed as being an introduction to classical music.

The introduction is eased all the more by Fry's signature sense of humour, which of course has been a key element in marketing this book to draw his fans in. Be that as it may, though, some might consider that Fry's particular brand of humour rests significantly on tone of voice and comic timing, making this book better as a radio series (which is, incidentally, how it originated) or even as a television series (we are still waiting). Nevertheless, this is not to say that the pages never raise a chuckle, and they are packed with brilliantly British puns throughout, referring to everything from Jim'll Fix It (perhaps not so politically correct in these times, but never mind) to The Beano. The authors also do cover a vast period of history in a relatively short space without skimping on detail, but some of this space is meaningless filler (which would arguably be cut out for TV or radio) and some of the space is devoted disproportionately to the composers that Fry just happens to like best (but then again, I would say that, as I'm a devotee of Ancient Greek music and will always feel that it deserves more attention).

To end such an ambitious project was always going to be awkward, and Fry's observations towards the end of the book (that the focus has shifted more towards artists and reality TV now than towards composers themselves, and that film music is perhaps the new classical music) are perfectly salient, leaving the reader with plenty to contemplate. While he has tried to end the book on a contemporary note, the danger of this was always that his conclusion would date quickly - some of the groups he mentions, such as Amici Forever, who were busily popularizing classical music at the time of the book's publication nearly ten years ago, have already disbanded. Future edits should probably take account of this by offering up a more general conclusion, perhaps without mentioning specific names unless their place in history is safely assured (mentioning Pavarotti, for instance, is probably not too big a risk). Ultimately, though, despite these pernickety criticisms, a totally unscientific experiment perhaps proves that the book has achieved its aim of popular appeal: when offered up to a class of twenty fifteen-year-olds for free, alongside an autobiography of Bagpuss' creator and two CS Lewis books, this was the only one to be snatched up instantly.

other works by Stephen Fry
The Liar (1992)
Paperweight (1992)
The Hippopotamus (1994)
Making History (1996)
Moab is my Washpot (1997)
The Stars' Tennis Balls (2000)
Rescuing The Spectacled Bear (2002)
The Ode Less Travelled (2005)
Stephen Fry in America (2008)
The Fry Chronicles (2010)