t's interesting that several people attending the same concert can have widely differing views. Prom 49 was a case in point. The National Youth Orchestra, conducted by Antonio Pappano, played "Ameriques" by Varese, Rachmaninov's 4th piano concerto with Boris Berezovsky as soloist, and Aaron Copland's 3rd symphony. I went along with 4 friends and we all came out walking on air, agreeing that it was one of the most inspiring concerts we'd ever attended. I was even moved to express my enthusiasm on the BBC Proms reviews page. (http://www.bbc.co.uk/proms/2008/interactandreviews/reviews/23aug.shtml) On the same page I was astonished to read one person saying "rather disappointing" and another complaining that "I find it truly tragic that this fine orchestra has been stuck with Varese (who he ?)," later describing the Rachmaninov as "4th rate" and saying that "the whole thing seemed to me singularly ineptly conceived." That this person had never heard of Varese already speaks volumes. Why not? Varese was one of the most influential composers of his day - and the pioneering spirit of his work is evident for all to hear. Yes, it is sometimes uncomfortable - but what is the point of art that stays rigidly within a fake comfort zone? This programme was not inept - it was inspirational. All three works , widely different in character, were composed at roughly the same time, yet inhabit completely different sound worlds, and thus offer a fascinating view of the times as seen by three composers from very different cultures. The Rachmaninov may not have the huge tunes of the 2nd concerto, but some would say it's the more meaningful for it. Nobody would argue for having no tunes - but strong melodies, with beginnings middles and ends, also create huge problems of form. Beethoven and Sibelius were two composers who discovered this. There isn't a more effective sonata-form movement than the 1st movement of the Eroica, and yet all the building blocks are quite brief. Likewise, in Sibelius' 7th symphony, there are no massive tunes (as, for example, in the 2nd) yet this turns out to be one of music's most wonderfully moving creations. The Copland is another of my favourite works. I love the directness of it. Many people complain that middle to late 20th century music was inhabited only by manic depressives - well, here's the opposite! But that isn't to say that it is unrelentingly bombastic - it isn't. There are lyrical passages too, especially in the slow movement, and dance-like passages which recall some of Copland's superb ballet scores. The whole piece is a work-out for the orchestra, and with its youthful spirit ideally suited to performance by young players. One or two critics noticed some fluffs in the brass towards the end. Well done guys! I noticed them too. Actually I've never heard a live performance of this symphony without a fluff here and there, and that's because it's hugely demanding. The important point is whether or not the fluffs seriously marr a performance, and here they definitely did not. This was one occasion where the mighty weight of an enlarged orchestra (8 trombones!) added grandeur and majesty to the score. It was thrilling! There isn't a better orchestra than the NYO. It performs the most marvellous service in providing young people with an opportunity to make great music with conductors and soloists at the top of the profession. Some of the players will go on to make a living from music - others will choose different careers. All will benefit from the experience. And we should turn up to their concerts and applaud what they do so well. There are genuine fears for the very future of classical music in this country. When we see teenagers revellng in it, we should revel too.
Getting Started
I often receive emails, letters and telephone calls from young musicians who fancy a career in the media. The question most frequently asked is "how do I get started?" There is no such thing as a "standard" method, and every composer working in films or television has his or her own story to tell. But there are some prerequisites. Most importantly, you have to have some material available for potential customers to hear. You should compile a CD or tape which demonstrates as wide a range of material as possible, and many short items will be best – always remember that those listening to your music will be busy people with little time or patience to wade through extended masterpieces. In some respects things are easier for young musicians than they were ten or twenty years ago. The wide availablility of relatively inexpensive computers and music programmes means that demos of high quality can be assembled at home or in a college workshop. Professional guidance is also widely available at universities and music colleges - which was not the case when I was a student! In other respects, things are more difficult. Getting yourself known in the television and film industries is certainly no easier than before, because there are a great many young composers trying to break in. There is simply not enough work to support the number of people who would like to be doing it, meaning that things are fiercely competitive. And we are living in difficult times with ever decreasing music budgets. I would always recommend that a budding media composer has a second string to his or her bow. You should send your music to producers and directors, having established that they have a production lined up. Names and addresses can be found in tomes and periodicals such as "The Knowledge", "Screen International", and "Programme News". You will probably receive no response – but it is essential to remember that you only need a favourable response from one producer or director to get you started. Good luck! Christopher Gunning~ August 2008
Those Reviews
How true it is that one should never trust the musical opinions of others - and least of all reviewers! There simply is no substitute for listening oneself and forming one's own opinions. This is not to say that all reviewers are incompetent, narrow minded, or simply world-weary from having heard too much music, although all these could apply to some. The point is that the appreciation of music becomes an entirely subjective affair once one has got past certain obvious hurdles, such as "is this orchestration defective?" or "is this composition a direct rip-off of something else?" The first reviews of my new Chandos disc, are coming in. I am beginning to wonder if the reviewers have been listening to the same disc... In the Daily Telegraph we have "Film composer Christopher Gunning's classical efforts are nice enough but don't blow you away," and the disc is given three stars - well far, far better than one or two, and thank you for that! But then, if you turn to Music Web International, one of the most important music web sites, the tone is quite different. "This is fabulous stuff. That, really, is all I need to say, but I’ll say it again. This, quite simply, is fabulous stuff." The reviewer goes on to praise just about every aspect of the music, from its composition through to the performances by the RPO and my oboist daughter Verity. Then again, if you read the review in "Gramophone" magazine, surely one of the most trusted music journals, you will find praise once again heaped on the music and performers. The oboe concerto is "a charming composition, winningly played." For the thrid slymphony, we have "The Third immediately takes a grip on the imagination and offers the listener a full symphonic workout." Of course it's for others to decide whether my music moves them in any way, and on that basis they will form an opinion as to whether it's any good or not. But what I don't get at all is how the Telegraph's reviewer could find my Third symphony "nice enough." It just isn't "nice" at all, and that's not a subject for debate - it's an intentionally dissonant piece, at times very noisy and dramatic. One or two friends have been quite shocked that the composer of the Poirot sig tune would also write such a thing as this. And anyone wanting "nice enough" music would be mighty disappointed to put Symphony 3 in his/her player if he/she was expecting a pleasant English idyll. Isn't it all strange! When my Piano Concerto appeared a few years ago, one commentator labelled it "Gunning's atonal concerto." Another referred to its "tonal idiom." One found it to be a "highlight of the British concerto repertory," and another thought it aimless. Again, did they hear the same piece? This sort of thing happens when I go to concerts. I have sat through innumerable concerts of contemporary music struggling to find any good reason why one note followed another, only to read in the paper the next morning that I had been listening to a masterpiece. Conversely I have also been moved to tears by performances which a critic then dismissed as inadequate. We all like to criticize to some extent, but I'd certainly hate to be a critic. Wouldn't it be awful to HAVE to attend operas and concerts day in, day out. One should attend an event because one WANTS to - not because it's an obligation. If it's the latter, one starts off on a dodgy footing - ready to find what's wrong with something rather than what's right. So, to that extent, I sympathise with reviewers. To do the job responsibly is an onerous task - and I suppose it's only human to fail sometimes. And that's why, throughout music history, the critics have got it wrong time and time again.