Do the Beatles belong among the greats?

A few nights ago PBS re-aired a 2010 special feature of Paul McCartney being awarded the Gershwin Prize for Popular Song at the White House.  He was introduced by President Obama, after which he performed a number of  favorites, including Michelle (for Mrs. Obama), Eleanor Rigby, Let it Be, and of course Hey Jude.  I haven't seen a Paul McCartney performance in a while and  I knew that he was pushing 70 years old, so I couldn't help watching.  How many  70-year-old rock stars can you name that are still performing?  It's a short list.  And if you're wondering, he can still tear up the piano and do those screams in Hey Jude.   Paul McCartney has definitely still got it.  The things that made him popular in the 1960s are still working for him today: catchy tunes and what Entertainment Weekly calls "starry-eyed charm."  But is it too soon to call him classic?  President Obama's remarks said that McCartney's music has stood the test of time, but is 50 years enough time?

I surveyed some fellow music-lovers about what constitutes a classic and received some good responses. One person said, "Here is one way to distinquish a classic: is it loved by generations who were not alive when it was released?"  Put another way, will I still like the song even if it is completely different from the styles and trends that I have been socially primed to enjoy?  Another person observed, "I don't know many people who actually listen to Bob Dylan, but I haven't met many people that aren't willing to give him his place as an all-time great."  This suggests that even if someone does not care for a song, they might still be willing to call it important and definitive.

Here is a kink in the line, though:  throughout history, musicians have acquired fame for two things: writing music and performing music.  But being good at one does not necessarily make you good at the other, even if you are famous for both.  So let's not forget that starry-eyed charm. When Paul McCartney performs works by Paul McCartney, do we enjoy it because of the quality of the music, or the charisma of the performance?

If we consider how many people have produced covers of his hit single Yesterday, we might say both.  There is some disagreement about how many covers have been done, but many have referenced the Guinness Book of World Records, saying 1,600, others saying as many as 3,000.  (I tried to track down the record myself without success.)  If this record is any indication, McCartney's music seems to have taken on a life of its own, independently of his popular original performances.

Still, whether people continue playing his songs 50 or 100 years from now remains to be seen.  Johann Sebastian Bach was famous during his lifetime mostly for his organ playing.  After his death, his compositions  were largely forgotten until revived by Felix Mendelssohn in 1829.  Now he is considered to be one of the most influential and celebrated composers in western history, more than 250 years after his death, and when the landscape of popular music has changed so utterly, he would probably not recognize it.  And even now, many still find his work transcendentally beautiful.

Will the Beatles be celebrated long after they have all passed away?  They actually might be.  They have been influential in many areas of culture and style, and have even been cited by scholars for contributing to social movements that led to the fall of the iron curtain, (see also: The Beatles Revolution - an ABC spcecial that aired in 2000). 

But will their music still resonate with people 100 years from now?  Will they be playing Eleanor Rigby and A Hard Day's Night when they've cured cancer and populated the moon?  I think no one can say.  All we know is that we still like it.  But I'm hopeful.

Strad: The designer brand violin?

"A table, a chair, a bowl of fruit and a violin; what else does a man need to be happy?"

-Albert Einstein

Earlier today National Public Radio aired a segment on Stradivarius violins during All Things Considered.  (Click here to read the story at NPR)  It discusses a double-blind research study that was conducted to find out whether Stradivarius violins are noticeably better sounding than newer high-quality instruments.  Apparently, professional violinists can't reliably  tell the difference.

Can't you just see the commercials?  "Why spend more on designer violins when you can get the same great sound for less?"

This caught my attention, however, because of recent developments in the world of violin-making.  Back in November, the BBC reported about a radiologist named Steven Sirr had the idea to us a CAT scanner to observe the acoustical qualities inside stringed instruments.  He partnered up with a violin maker based in St. Paul, Minnesota named John Waddle, and used the scans of a Stradivarius violin to try to recreate the original as closely as possible.  The copies ended up sounding very similar to the original. (Click here to read the story.)  Many luthiers agree that these developments in technology could allow us to produce high quality instruments that cost a tiny fraction of what the "old Italians" typically cost.  

If you follow the findings of these articles to their natural conclusion, it could be very good news for struggling musicians who are notorious for mortgaging their houses to pay for expensive instruments.  Unfortunately, it could also be good news for aspiring con artists who make good money by convincing people that they're getting a great price for the "strad" in front of them.  

The part that I found the most fascinating was near the end of the NPR report, where the participants of the double-blind study were asked which of the violins they would most like to take home.  

When Fritz asked the players which violins they'd like to take home, almost two-thirds chose a violin that turned out to be new. She's found the same in tests with other musical instruments. "I haven't found any consistency whatsoever," she says. "Never. People don't agree. They just like different things."

In fact, the only statistically obvious trend in the choices was that one of the Stradivarius violins was the least favorite, and one of the modern instruments was slightly favored.

Musicians sometimes have a romantic attachment to the idea of playing an old instrument, seasoned by time like a good bottle of wine.  But in the end, it seems our preferences in violin sound differ as much as our preferences about ice cream flavors, and strads don't always win.

Ok, full disclosure.  If someone offered me a strad, I would still take it.

Today's song of the day, a very violiny piece: Zapateado by Sarasate, performed by Midori.

American Idol, I think we should break up.

"Love, I find, is like singing.  Everybody can do enough to satisfy themselves, though it may not impress the neighbors."    

~Zora Neale Hurston

I used to be a fan.  I was once proud to say that I had voted for Jordin Sparks and David Cook, and felt excited about being an American Idol groupie.  And it makes sense.  Who doesn't love the idea of a random schmuck off the street getting catapulted to fame because they had amazing, previously undiscovered talent?  I would cringe a bit during the show's more heartless moments, but mostly I enjoyed cheering on my singer of choice, knowing that my "special sense" about musicians would undoubtedly prove correct.   But then I read an interesting book that made me view the show entirely differently.  I'd rather not go on tirades here about how it produces cookie cutter pop stars in an industry that sells image more than originality (which it does), or about how they have devoted more and more of the show's time to ridiculing people who who can't carry a tune. (though they unapologetically do.)  I worry more about what its popularity says about our culture of music.


Listen to what Daniel J. Levitin says in the introduction to This is your Brain on Music:

"Jim Ferguson, whom I have known since high school, is now a professor of anthropology...For his doctoroal degree at Harvard, he performed fieldwork in Losotho, a small nation completely surrounded by South Africa.  There, studying and interacting with local villagers, Jim patiently earned their trust until one day he was asked to join in one of their songs.  So, typically, when asked to sing with these Sotho villagers, Jim said in a soft voice, 'I don't sing.'  ... The villagers just stared at Jim and said, 'What do you mean you don't sing?!  You talk!'   Jim told me later, 'It was as odd to them as if I told them that I couldn't walk or dance, even though I have both my legs.'  Singing and dancing were a natural activity in everyone's lives, seamlessly integrated and involving everyone."

He also said:

"Our culture, and indeed our very language, makes a distinction between a class of expert performers - the Arthur Rubinsteins, Ella Fitzgeralds, Paul McCartneys - and the rest of us.  The rest of us pay money to hear the experts entertain us.... A couple of generations ago, before television, many families would sit around and play music together for entertainment.  Nowadays there is a great emphasis on technique and skill, and whether a musician is "good enough" to play for others.  Music making has become a somewhat reserved activity in our culture, and the rest of us listen."

After reading this, it's hard for me to enjoy American Idol anymore.  My family was one that sang together around the piano, and I will always value the sense of community and pleasure that comes from things like campfire songs,  karaoke, community bands and spiritual worship.  People participate in these things because music helps us express things that are difficult to express in any other way.  I have seen countless teenagers posting on social network sites about the songs that would be included in the "soundtrack" of their lives, and I understand why.  Music says it in ways that we can't, and people love what it adds to their lives.  But the message that American Idol has spread far and wide is that if you don't sound like Kelly Clarkson, you have no business singing at all.  American Idol hopefuls that are less that qualified get laughed off the stage while those of us who knew better than to try get to critique from the safety of our over-stuffed furniture.  Contestant A can't sing in tune, contestant B has a funny nose, contestant C gets a little squeaky in the upper register, blah blah blah.

Screw it.  Sing on, America!  I'm a trained musician, and I spent countless hours in a practice room wood-shedding over Mozart, Beethoven and Bach until they were perfect to the last note, and I say screw it.  Stop being a critic!  Sing in the shower, turn up the radio and sing loud in the car.  Play the piano, even though you quit lessons when you were thirteen.  Dig out the ol' banjo and blow off the dust.  Sing on, Taylor Swift!  If your live performances aren't spliced to grammy-worthy perfection, your sisterhood of fans will love you all the more for being a real, live human being, and reminding us that we can be, too.  Sing on.

My song of the day is Nickel Creek performing Ode to a Butterfly: