Wine for Beethoven was symbolic. It was something that would bring everyone around the table to eat and drink and be equals.
I remember seeing the Indian women with babies wrapped about them quietly contemplating Beethoven’s 7th.
When art goes wrong, we get a philistine welter of empty prettiness or an arid desert of conceptualism.
You could be sour about the music industry if you wanted to be. But the musicians’ union has a lot to answer for.
There will always be a type that can’t reconcile himself to the fact that classical music will always be a minority taste.
Paradoxically, while our civilization grows old, it is our past that we label as aged and the day itself as eternally young.
Postwar modernism and its hip progeny is pushing classical music into the corner as a “museum culture.”
Selling music in wrapping paper which belies its nature will inevitably lead to disappointment.