Dr. Andrew Childs

Throughout my teaching career, I have encountered little resistance to the theoretical concept of music's importance. Parents–most of whom emerged from the same flawed educational system that I did–realize that they lack foundational knowledge of music, and recognize the significance of establishing an appreciation for music in their children through exposure at home and in the concert hall. Children understand innately–though they may not appreciate intellectually–the deficiencies of the vernacular music of the folk, country, pop and rock traditions: much like junk food, they naturally suspect that something so accessible and pleasing to their palate must not be "good for them," though they remain content with its accessibility, and in no particular hurry to take on the sophistication of their palates voluntarily. As fallen creatures we lack a natural sense of self-regulation–especially when it comes to desirable experiences–and families establish a sort of uneasy compromise with music: parents dutifully forbid children to listen to music seemingly universally agreed upon as bad, and in turn children dutifully consent not to point out a) that their parents have neglected to specify the nature of the badness or its distinct boundaries, b) that the bad has much in common with the not-so-bad, and c) that their parents often fail to offer any concrete suggestions for good other than that which has much in common with the not-so-bad. Parents often find themselves at a loss to face questions the answers to which require experience and knowledge they simply don't have.

The enormity of substantive music as a genre–just as that of art or literature–can easily intimidate and overwhelm any one of us. For parents and fellow pilgrims who know enough to know what they don't have in terms of knowledge relating to music and recordings, my next two articles to be published in The Angelus will offer response to comments heard on numerous occasions and in various forms: "We've thrown out TV and Rock; now what?" Such statements and the decisions that motivate them represent heroic effort for parents in many cases, both in terms of breaking addictions of convenience, and in taking the tremendous risk of exposing themselves as lacking intellectual authority. Parents often reasonably choose a compromise position relative to areas beyond their expertise in order to retain the credibility necessary to maintain family order. In the case of music, however–where this most certainly happens–the stakes may be too high to allow for uninformed concessions or unmonitored latitude. Understand, however, that taste will not change overnight: people of all ages will often avoid listening to music that doesn't immediately appeal to them. At the outset, establishing good listening habits relates more to will and discipline than it does taste and as yet undeveloped inclination.

The positive effects of good listening are irrefutable. As it often does, modern science takes great pride in its considered observation and extensive commentary on the intuitively obvious, as well as its inevitably Frankensteinian attempts to reverse-engineer common sense. Recall "Mozart Makes You Smarter," "Bach for Baby," and the like–in the case of music, herald trumpets accompanied the near-Newtonian discovery that music not only civilizes, but aids in the development of cognitive function.¹ Your grandmother knew that, but at a time when the pace of life and the distractions of living it seem designed to overwhelm, people naturally assume that they have less and less time to engage in frivolities such as establishing clarity of thought and the atmospheric enhancement of brain function. Having mustered enough lucidity to realize the importance of establishing an edifying soundtrack to Catholic homes, however, we find the cupboard bare: beyond the Lord of the Rings soundtracks and the recordings of Seamus O'Kelly and His Band of Feisty Fiddlers, behind the sonic stones of our youth still so maddeningly appealing to us...lies a silent void.

Assembling a Music Library

A library serves many functions: a storehouse of reference and entertainment; a reminder to us of our intellectual development; an indication to others of the scope and focus of our interests as well as the extent of our education, formal and self-motivated. Our library tells others where we have been, our priorities, our imaginative tendencies; it serves physically as a focal point and as a personal introduction–who doesn't feel he knows a man after having perused his library? A listening library serves the same purposes. In many cases, however–having far too long avoided the putting away of childish things for adult ears–people find themselves faced with an empty shelf, a genuine interest in filling it, and the potentially very expensive prospect of buying an entire music library at once. As a response to that particular panic, recall that just as book collections grow by gradual accumulation over time, so can collections of recordings. In upcoming installments I will suggest 100 ways to start that collection, but first, some discussion on the nature of recording, and some tips to assist you in safely branching out.

As a matter of my occupation–and also the result of a fortuitous choice to work in a music store throughout my time in graduate school–my own collection includes closer to 1000 recordings than 100. Unlike a literature library, a library of recordings consists not only of works, but also–perhaps even more importantly in certain cases–performances, and established collections include multiple versions of favorite pieces for comparison or as examples of contrasting but equally valid interpretations.² That said, I would argue strongly for quality over quantity in library building, and would prefer that someone own 20 definitive recorded performances of masterworks rather than 200 cheaply produced two-dimensional readings incapable of inspiring any further interest in an epoch or genre. Beyond knowing what pieces to buy, a listener needs to know how to buy recordings.

Recording substantive cultivated ("classical") music is a very expensive process. Recording an opera, for example, requires hiring a legitimate acoustic venue, an entire symphony orchestra (composed of 100 musicians making union scale), a professional opera chorus (of perhaps 48-60, also unionized), plus established soloists, all of whom negotiate recording and royalty fees through professional agents. Reputable labels spend extensive amounts of time and money to ensure that the recordings they produce have the broadest possible appeal, and that the performers they choose and their interpretations will have both lasting artistic value and prolonged commercial viability. Producers play many roles: beyond finding and nurturing artistic talent, they must find ways profitably to promote and distribute their decidedly un-"popular" music, all the while serving as de facto educators and stewards of culture. Not to put an overly idealistic veneer on an often mercenary industry, but producers of classical music do understand the importance of preserving cultural heritage by adding to the recorded catalog. Many large label consortia absorb losses producing and distributing this music, but easily compensate for the deficits with profits gained by selling more popular music. Certain other labels exist only to produce exceptionally high quality recordings of specific genres or eras of classical music, and frequently survive as the result of cultural (mostly European) State sponsorship.

Perhaps most fascinating of all, artists and producers must balance the opportunity to achieve technical perfection through numerous takes and splices, and the potential transcendent immediacy of artistic spontaneity in performance. Ultimately, and I believe rightly, most opt for the predictability of the studio. Too many variables exist in live performance–a unique event in time–the success of which lives on only in the memory of those in attendance. The specific conditions of a live performance converge only once, and many of these conditions require actual physical presence. The "electricity" in the audience anticipating an important debut or farewell leaves no sonic trace and yet defines the recollection of the event for many people.

Reading the Label

The recording industry survives as the result of balancing the production and marketing of types of music with wildly variable profitability. Certain labels sustain their production of classical product based on proven back-catalog performances (often re-released at lower prices), while others specialize in specific genres or time periods. In general, recordings should feature artists not only remarkably talented, but specifically familiar with stylistic nuances and authentic performance practices. The majority of the music in the proposed collection falls either under the loose heading "early" music–composed generally before the 18th century–or is music of "standard" repertoire that has benefited from the attempt to recreate the musical conditions known to the composer, rather than trying to impose a modern reading, often stylistically inappropriate. Scholarship of the last half-century has succeeded in revitalizing (and often rediscovering) much early music. Beyond this, music of well-known composers of the 18th and 19th centuries has benefited from studies in pitch (a half-step lower than modern pitch even as late the mid-19th century, a tremendous benefit for singers now frequently asked to sing difficult repertoire–Bach, Handel, Mozart, Beethoven–effectively transposed upwards), instruments (string instruments strung with natural fiber produce a completely different sound than those strung with metal wire, the modern practice. Wooden and metal flutes create remarkably distinct sensations. Brass instruments without valves require an entirely different playing approach and produce much less sound), and style. The effect resembles that of the Sistine Chapel cleaning: masterworks long accepted as venerable and important take on brightness and vitality previously unthought-of.

Reading recording labels is like reading wine labels. The presence of a few key phrases insures quality and content. The information "On Period Instruments," "Authentic Performance," "Recorded at Original Pitch," and others similar to them indicate that the performers have adopted historically informed approaches to recording. I would suggest buying these recordings almost exclusively.

On the practical level, recordings vary widely in terms of price. Though the most expensive recordings do not necessarily contain the finest performances, this often holds true due to the fact that quality control in terms of production relates directly to cost charged to the consumer. Good inexpensive recordings exist, but generally, records are cheap as the result of compromise, either in terms of production or performance quality. While I won't attempt here to provide an exhaustive listing of reliable labels, I trust these, those with an asterisk to such an extent that I will often buy their records with no knowledge of the artist or music represented:

• * Archiv Production/Deutsche Grammophon
• Albany Records
• Angel/EMI
• Centaur
• * Chandos
• Decca/London
• * ECM
• Erato
• * Harmonia Mundi/Deutsche Harmonia Mundi
• * Hyperion
• * Naxos (a good-quality budget label)
• Phillips
• RCA
• SONY-BMG/CBS-Columbia Masterworks
• Telarc
• Teldec
• * Virgin/Veritas

As you gain familiarity with these labels, you will come to recognize the dependability of certain artists, composers, etc.: each recording you buy can act as a reference for the next. In fact, buying samplers of specific labels may accomplish this most efficiently.

Ideal Vintage

For those of you not willing to wait for the list to appear in the The Angelus, at least take my advice. Choosing from recordings on the list of labels, buy anything written between the years of 1550 and 1750. Music of the High Renaissance and early Baroque represents some of the most finely crafted, technically interesting, and properly ideologically-oriented art in history. This epoch stands as one of the few guarantees of reliable goodness in the history of human creative expression. The genres, forms, and techniques of the High Renaissance and Baroque musical periods made substantive demands on composers sufficient to weed out mediocrity before the fact (you simply couldn't write the music without real talent), and resulted in almost universally good, yet accessible music. More than this, music of the Church–much originally composed for liturgical use–predominates, providing one of history's greatest artistic examples of the confluence of purpose and process: great music written for the highest end. This in no way implies that this era will suit you more than any other, or that it produced the greatest music ever composed, but if you hold in your hands a well-made recording of music written between these dates, you have near-absolute certainty of quality, appeal, and safety for ears of all ages.

Dr. Andrew Childs serves currently as Professor of Music at St. Mary's Academy and College in St. Marys, Kansas, where he lives with his wife and daughter, and two cats of legendary girth and good nature. He is also Assistant to the Director of Education for the U.S. District of the Society of Saint Pius X. He has taught at Yale University, the University of California at Irvine, Missouri State University, and Connecticut College. An active professional performer, he has sung over 100 performances of nearly 30 operatic roles.

1. Researchers at my alma mater, UC Irvine, began the formal study of the effect of music on "Spatial-Temporal Reasoning" now known colloquially as the "Mozart Effect," in the early 1990's.

2. Some people ramble on about recordings the way others ramble on about wine, but I tell you, there is some validity in these commentaries.