"A musical gap seems to exist between generations." This
is how Leonard Slatkin, the director of the National Symphony in Washington,
D.C., articulated (Washington Post, June 21) the concern of many older
Americans that young people show little interest in the music their
elders love, while their elders are baffled by the unconventional musical
styles of their progeny.
How does one bring traditional vocal music that was popular many decades
ago to young people whose musical education offered little, if any,
singing in the home, in the classroom, at school festivities, or public
events? Many young people learn to play a band instrument but few learn
to sing, and few attend concerts of traditional music. While this observation
is a rough generalization, knowledgeable critics, such as Maestro Slatkin,
confirm it.
Ever since the advent of Elvis Presley and the rock culture, the rich
tradition of American folk music has been declining. On many a study
tour abroad, my students were asked to sing a few American folk songs
for their foreign hosts, but they usually declined. They could at best
hum a few melodies but did know the words, not even the words of patriotic
songs. By and large, the music appreciation of most young Americans
today extends far more on contemporary rock stars than on the creations
of bygone eras.
During my early childhood, my family often sang and played together
because we had neither radio nor television that could turn us into
passive media addicts. As radio and phonograph records came into vogue,
social engineers discovered the use, or abuse, of music for the purpose
of mood manipulation. What ought to be an uplifting sensation deteriorated
into an ever-present, numbing background noise in shops, offices, even
elevators. Why do we allow the shallowest faddists to kill whatever
few hours of silence are left in our waking hours?
Today's MTV generation wants to experience its music visually. Scantily
attired performers hurl their shrieking cords at their restless audiences,
so loud that neither lyrics nor melodies become discernible. Why does
rock music require such excessive amplification?
I have never heard anybody define the music of today's adolescent culture
but I know it when I hear it. It offends and hurts my ears. In disbelief,
I see the performers jumping around like monkeys begging for food, and
frenzied audiences imitating them. At the peak of his exultation, a
Garth Brooks will smash his guitar or a Toby Keith will bash the Dixie
Chicks to the delight of orgiastically cheering crowds. I have to turn
away before I need a tranquilizer. If this is musical bliss, it is beyond
this old man's comprehension.
O yes, I know what I described are the extremes of adolescent music
appreciation. Yet, on many radio and television stations, this musical
genre reigns. Who would have thought that there ever would be radio
stations in America refusing to play Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington,
or any other pre-sixties music, leave alone the memorable sounds of
the operettas and musicals of a hundred years ago. Surely, the world
identifies American music far more with the "hanky-toting, Cheshire-grinning
Armstrong singing and blowing at the peak of his improvisational powers"
than with the alleged star performers since.
Not only are important idioms of America's secular music fading away,
so are many of the old Christian hymns in their abundant denominational
and ethnic variety (Latin, Lutheran, Wesleyan, and so on). Contemporary
"praise music" seems bent on setting itself apart from classical
hymns, in an effort to keep the faithful happy with trendy popular sounds.
Unlike the ecclesiastic modes and minor keys of Christianity's earlier
hymns, many contemporary texts and cadences offer only upbeat praise,
no contemplation and admonition. That may not be a failing, but it clearly
is a change in theological direction.
For better or worse, the widely divergent musical preferences of the
old and the young tell us much about their feelings and their state
of mind. If you ask me why this is so, I will have to respond with the
words of Louis Armstrong:
"Man, if you gotta ask, you'll never know."