What I’ve Tried In The Past

Going into this, I’ll own that I haven’t made a great go of learning about classical music in the past. I’ve tried, but in large part that process has consisted of searching for articles with titles like “How To Get Into Classical Music” or “9 Pieces To Make You Fall In Love With Classical Music.” Maybe those articles work for someone? They’re romantic, right? The idea that a single piece of music could somehow instantaneously hook someone into music that is, in many ways, divorced from the music at the center of our popular culture is cool. It’s also wild! I think classical music needs a little more unpacking than those articles provide, not because the music is completely inaccessible, but because a little bit of context goes a long way in the learning process.

My father has also tried to recommend pieces before, movements from specific symphonies in particular. I love talking about music with him, but I’ve struggled with his recommendations. That’s not his fault! By and large, his sense of what I might like has been pretty good. He understands the playfulness and bombast I look for when I listen in other genres. I don’t do well with recommendations, though. I internalize some pressure from them, ignore them, and go back to listening to exactly to what I was listening to before. Mostly heavy metal with a heaping side of whatever I feel like in the moment.

What Worked This Time

When I decided to learn more about classical music this time around, I went looking for a book to do some of the unpacking I was looking. I was prompted in no small part by a recording of Rachmaninov’s Isle of the Dead(Ashkenazy’s 1984 recording with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, in case you were wondering), from which I learned about the tone poem or symphonic poem. I hadn’t heard of the form before, I loved the piece, and I was curious. I wanted to learn more.

After a lot of digging I picked out Jan Swofford’s Language of the Spirit: An Introduction to Classical Music. Swofford provides a quick introduction to the major periods, sketches out biographies of major composers, and makes recommendations of specific pieces for each composer. The book is simple, straightforward, and fun reading. There are a few missteps: Jennifer Higdon is really the only female composer mentioned and the anti-Semitism of a few of the late 19th century composers is treated more lightly than it should be. On the whole, though, Language of the Spirit is an effective introduction to Western classical music. It isn’t comprehensive, but it isn’t intended to be comprehensive. I’ve chosen to use the book as a jumping-off point for music I’ve never really engaged with and it has been very helpful in that regard.

So, Swofford and Rachmaninov got me started. What really helped me stick with my classical music habit over the last couple of months, though, was Apple Music Classical, which launched in March. It does feel a little silly to have a separate app for a single genre, but I am a person who worries overmuch about how to keep track of the music I enjoy. Learning about new music is tricky when a lot of it can very quickly disappear into a digital moras. In this case, having a single application with good metadata to keep track as I learn is great! It’s fun! I don’t have to zoom in on cover art just to figure out which conductor I’m listening to! Apple Music Classical has a few bugs and the interface isn’t perfect, but the app absolutely has made it easier for me to keep listening as I learn about new pieces. If Apple adds CarPlay support, an iPad app, and offline playback I’ll be all set.

Can I make one other recommendation? The Sticky Notes podcast is an absolute godsend. Host Joshua Weilerstein (music director for the Phoenix Orchestra in Boston) does a fantastic job breaking down individual pieces for the layperson. He’s a good interviewer, too, and each episode is smart, moving, and fun. I strongly recommend giving the show a listen — it’s like having program notes for music you’re listening to at home. Like I said earlier, a little context helps.

I am a research librarian. In retrospect, I probably could have predicted that research and organization would allow me to successfully explore classical music. I’ll keep that in mind for next time, shall I? The music, though, is what really keeps me engaged. I can’t say I love everything I’ve tried, but all of it has been interesting and that’s what matters most.

A Few Favorites

In the last couple of months I’ve listened to and enjoyed a lot of new music. I’m not going to list it all here, but what I will do is share three of my favorite pieces with the recordings I’ve listened to. If you have any recommendations based on those favorites, drop me a line! I’m ready to hear more.

  1. Rachmaninov: The Isle of the Dead in A Minor, Op. 29
    As I mentioned above, I listened to the Vladimir Ashkenazy recording with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra. It’s creepy, it thunders, it does an incredible job evoking the eery solemnity of the painting on which the piece is based. I love it, and it is absolutely what got me to start listening to more classical music in earnest.
  2. Elgar: Cello Concerto in E Minor, Op. 85
    In Language of the Spirit, Jan Swofford shies away from making recommendations of specific recordings. The Elgar concerto is the lone exception. Cliché it may be, but the Jacqueline du Pré recording with Sir John Barbirolli conducting the London Symphony Orchestra is simply fantastic. I also had the chance to hear the concerto live a few weeks ago, performed by Gabriel Martins and the Duluth Superior Symphony Orchestra. That was really lovely, too, brooding and beautiful.
  3. Schubert: Winterreise, Op. 89, D. 911
    Moody as hell, and isn’t that what we love? “Winterreise” is mopey sadboi heavy metal pretending to be a 19th century German song cycle. Laugh all you want at that description! The music still pushes a lot of the same buttons for me as, say, the recent Argent Moon EP by Insomnium. I like both the Ian Bostridge recording with Thomas Adès and the Mark Padmore recording with Paul Lewis. They’re quite different in some ways — Padmore’s voice is much lighter than Bostridge’s and the tempos vary widely at times — but both are really lovely and sad. “I arrived a stranger / A stranger I depart” — how could that fail to resonate?