https://blog.ayjay.org/this-post-is-obviously-against-all-new-things/
May 1, 2026
this post is obviously against
all new things
The culture … does get stuck. We
are too backward-facing already. The Metropolitan Review has
run its fair share of retrospectives, but I’ve been in the mood, of late, to
crack down on them. There is always going to be another anniversary of a great
old work of art. There is always another famous dead writer we can celebrate.
I’m as guilty of this as anyone, as I begin work, for this Substack, on an
essay celebrating the 60th anniversary of Pet Sounds. But I want
new musical horizons, too. Imagine if the rock musicians of the 1960s spent
much of their day fixating on the pop of the 1940s. As a culture, we need less
mimesis and less retrogression. A lot of this is the fault of the algorithmic
internet, which rewards copycat trends and wearying groupthink. Cultural
nostalgia is nothing new, though it can feel especially repressive these days.
Responses:
1) There
is no art without “mimesis,” in the sense that Barkan uses the term here: all
art responds to prior art in a thousand ways. And the problem, according to
him, is not people copying older
art but rather being
too interested in it. He seems to want, as an alternative to
mimesis, amnesia.
2)
Interest in and knowledge of the past is neither “retrogression” nor
“nostalgia” — not does it constitute “groupthink,” because a staggeringly wide
range of opinions is possible (and indeed extant) about pre–21st-century
cultural productions.
3) It’s
noteworthy that Barkan, because he edits a Substack publication, thinks of
himself as a cultural policeman who can “crack down” on those overly attentive
to the past. (Remember
this day the next time you want to write a piece about an old book, comrade!)
4) Writing an essay
on Pet Sounds is not, in my judgment, something to feel “guilty”
about. …
5) Indeed, “There is always going to be another
anniversary of a great old work of art” — which makes for a great opportunity
to write about it, alert readers to its existence and its excellences, and
maybe even inspire young artists to try to match it. Bob Dylan wasn’t “fixating
on the pop of the 1940s,” but he was compulsively fascinated by and profoundly
knowledgable about the long great history of demotic American music, what he
calls “historical-traditional music.” And his absorption in that vast old musical
world was absolutely essential to his greatness. When we write
about great things from the past, we’re helping to feed future Dylans.
…
This is
the point at which I interrupt Alan Jacobs’ rebuttal to point out that Stevie
Wonder’s masterpiece Innervisions has now been around for more than half a century
and literally nobody on the planet has attempted to publish a monograph
analyzing every track in musical and lyrical terms; situating the album in the
historical and cultural context of the United States in the early 1970s as a
way to convey its cultural impact; and a handful of essays I have come across
discuss Stevie Wonder as a disabled black musician without really seeming to
discuss his brilliant songs. Now I have
a visual disability myself so it’s not like I can’t connect at all to
discussions of how disabled musicians handle music in ways that maybe other
able-bodied musicians don’t. It’s just
that it would be nice if the music itself got discussed.
The
fiftieth anniversary of Songs in the Key of Life is coming up this year,
after all, so somebody has time between now and September 28, 2026 to write
about “Sir Duke”. The only person I can think of who has tried to describe what
goes on musical in actual tracks from that album is Ethan
Hein (and
I am grateful for the work he has done blogging about Stevie Wonder songs).
My
counter to the Ross Barkan idea is to point out that nostalgic look-backs at
classic works isn’t a problem in itself.
The way Bruce Campbell put it when asked about still getting questions
about Evil Dead was he didn’t get tired of answer questions journalists
asked about the films, he got tired of answering the same questions about the
films from journalists who couldn’t be bothered to keep up with the questions
other reporters had asked which he had already answered.
Sticking
with music rather than novels I am half-way through a book by Bryan Proksch
called Reviving
Haydn: New Appreciations in the Twentieth Century.
ISBN
9781580465120 (hardback)
ISBN
9781782045410 (ebook)
One of
Proksch’s points was that Haydn was canonized in the early 19th
century as an inescapable and unavoidable precursor to Mozart and Beethoven. He was respectfully canonized …
and then consigned to oblivion as the cute little baby compared to the child
prodigy of Mozart and the manly man Beethoven.
In this account Berlioz is the figure who contemptuously sniffed that
too many people were listening to all that old fusty Haydn music when they
should be making room in concerts for new music, his music, of course and most
obviously.
In
other words, piggybacking on Alan Jacob’s point, Barkans can want arts media to
cover the new and daring because it’s literally in their interest to have what
little book coverage there is in Anglo-American arts journalism to plug their
own books. Jacobs’ counterpoint is that
if Barkan got the kind of arts journalism and art scholarly culture he seems to
want then Barkan’s own work would be consigned to oblivion (if I have to
assume, for the sake of Jacobs’ illustration, that anything Barkan has
published deserves to enter any kind of literary canon).
Haydn’s
canonization process in the early 19th century and the prejudicial
treatment his music got at the hands of cult of Beethoven men is a reminder
that canons and canonizers change. It’s possible for someone who was celebrated
as a musical genius without peer in his own lifetime to be regarded as an
adorable infantile musically precocious baby based on changing trends. One of the paradoxes of the series of Haydn
revivals was Heinrich Schenker, of all people, got just tired enough of
Germanophiles only talking about Mozart and Beethoven he decided Haydn wasn’t
getting enough love and appreciation and groused that Germans were unable to properly
appreciate Haydn’s contribution to music.
Another figure who felt Haydn was slighted by adherents to the cult of
Beethoven was Fetis, yes, that super white supremacist Fetis. The irony of music history can be that
sometimes a composer whose music really is worth studying has their reputation
revived by people with ideas that it’s very easy to consider terrible on other
issues (ahem, like race).
But
then the question of whether or not music can be considered a kind of racial
property has been haunting Western musicology for a couple of centuries. I stand by my reticence about Wesley Morris’
contribution to the 1619 Project claiming everybody’s stealing Black music. One
of the reasons we can benefit from studying the past is the past can be full of
ideas we want to reject and move beyond.
Sometimes the idea can be white supremacism, other times the idea could
be a photo negative in the form of ontological blackness and there is literally
a book out there by Victor Anderson called Beyond Ontological Blackness
I still need to get around to writing about.
I take Anderson’s point that Black Power movements and Black Theology
projects that merely flip scripts are still beholden to them. Rejecting those scripts of authenticity and
racial property that evolved across the long 18th and 19th
centuries are one of many reasons why I dissent from Ted Gioia’s dubious claim
that we need a new Romanticism. All of the worst ideas in trans-Atlantic
Euro-American Art Religion I can think of have tended to come from ideas about
music as an expression of or distillation of racial essence, whether that
essence be white or black.
Discovering
how to describe blues, ragtime and jazz as musical styles pioneered by and
perfected by Black musicians in the United States without recourse to racial
essentialist scripts may be one of the continuing challenges of the 21st
century. How do we describe this musical
history in a way that doesn’t ignore the persistence of jazz in Iran, China,
Poland, Hungary, Japan and elsewhere? One
of the aporias of objecting to Schenkerianism and its white supremacist element
was indirectly articulated by Kofi Agawu in his essay “Against Ethno-Theory”
wherein he pointed out that in being so obsessively Germanophile Schenker and
Riemann could be thought of as advocating ethno-theory, it just happened to be
the whitest of white German forms of ethno-theory.
When
a racist interpretation of Noah cursing Canaan sticks around for at least a
thousand years then knowing the past and knowing the way a canonical work has
been used and misused is part of being well-read. Leszek Kolakowski wrote in a forward to Main
Currents of Marxism that the reason it remains important to study the
history of philosophy is because stupid ideas don’t die, they keep coming back
in newly repackaged forms.
Sometimes
compelling and disastrous ideas coexist in the same author. John Gray claimed that Fyodor Dostoevsky’s criticism
of liberalism and relativism has remained salient but his pan-Slavic mysticism
isn’t worth discussing. It’s not? Does Gray really think that pan-Slavic Christendom
aspirations couldn’t be relevant in, say, Trump’s second term as President with
Paula White as a spiritual advisor? As
Aku told Samurai Jack “I disagree.” Knowing the history of ideas can let us
parse whether or not what the current administration might do with Augustine’s
just war theory is the same as what any previous generation of political
leaders would have done with it.
Ted Gioia might try to say that you can’t keep the best stuff down for long, but as I’m still going through Reviving Haydn I am seeing a music historian charting how the music of Haydn, who Mozart regarded as a great composer, was sidelined for the better part of a century by Beethoven fans. John McWhorter suggested in a review of Edward Berlin’s reissued biography of Scott Joplin that as the Jazz Age emerged Joplin’s music must have seemed like juice and cookies compared to the new sounds—it’s worth noting that Edward Berlin and other ragtime historians pointed out that the big ragtime revival of the 1960s through the 1970s happened among classical musicians and not within the jazz community, where jazz critics and musicians often regarded ragtime as antiquated; perhaps we could say that by the 1950s Scott Joplin was regarded as a Haydn to all of the jazz luminaries, probably worth studying but staid and stale. It’s fairly common for the best of the best in a style to get sidelined into temporary oblivion by gatekeepers and this is, I think, what Alan Jacobs’ counterpoint to Barkan gets at. Barkan could be the kind of person who sidelines still-worthy creative figures in favor of whatever comes next and could be doing so for understandable but still Berlioz reasons.
4 comments:
One of the things I'm learning from Andrew Hickey's 500 Songs podcast (a must-listen for anyone reading this) is that 1960s rock was a much smoother continuum with pre-rock pop than Rolling Stone magazine would have you believe. The Beatles sound different from Cole Porter but there is a significant amount of continuity there too. I always thought it was weird how many Beatles songs don't have choruses, until I finally realized that it's because they so often use AABA form with a refrain. And not just in the early stuff! "She Said She Said" is AABA form, not verse-chorus form. Same goes for their melodic and harmonic sensibilities. Andrew Hickey demonstrates how much rock is a seamless extension of jump blues, hillbilly boogie and Western swing, that Chuck Berry is pretty much just Bob Wills played a little faster.
I have to confess I have not been a podcast listener most of the time, so I was very excited to see Hickey has converted a lot of the material into ebook form so I grabbed the two volumes and have started into them.
Speaking of Stevie, I'm working on something about the Fm7 chord in the chorus of "Sir Duke", I made a track where I tried eleven other chords in its place that all make more musical sense, but none of which sound as good: https://ethanhein.bandcamp.com/track/stevie-wonders-mystery-chord
Nice. :)
Would you be game to do a post on "Sir Duke"? That song is incredible! And, yeah, that F minor 7 chord is remarkable. It sets up an incredible oblique motion pattern juxtaposed with similar motion if I remember the song correctly. The F chord makes all kinds of sense on its own. of root positions. Actually, the B natural major to F major chord shift reminds me ... of a reversed polarity version of the tritone shift. B minor to F natural major in first inversion is a key thematic moment in the first movement of String Quartet No. 7 by Shostakovich.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=El1Z9XQRTV8
The Shostakovich progression of B minor to F major is the more conventional of the two and tritone chord shifts became annoyingly cliche in the 1990s with grunge, but when Stevie Wonder and Shostakovich used them they work brilliantly.
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