A Call For A Return To Hierarchal Sobriety

(For reason or reasons not entirely clear, and upon which I cannot quite put my finger, I feel under ineluctable compulsion to reprint below the substance of an article written in 2003. It follows instanter sans further comment.)

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Apropos the elite nature of classical music (i.e., elite as in its appeal to a relatively limited segment of the population as an inherent quality of classical music itself as opposed to the attitude taken toward it by certain of its aficionados), I thought it apt to ruminate briefly and generally on the distinction between the artifacts of the realms of high and popular culture, and why I tend to laud the former, seem (underline seem) to turn my nose up at the latter, and bemoan and berate the latter's worldwide, rocket ship-like ascendancy in our era. (You might immediately object that I've already loaded the dice here by assuming a priori that a distinction between the artifacts of the realms of high and popular culture exists. That there does exist such a distinction is, I think, self-evidently manifest and inarguable, a priori assumptions aside, and so any perceived loading by me on this point is but illusory.)

First, and in the interests of full disclosure, I should here note that, generally speaking, I'm not terribly fond of the artifacts of popular culture, most of which I find empty of substance, and aesthetically vulgar or vapid beyond tolerance. But that doesn't in the least prevent me from recognizing instantly the aesthetic value inherent in the best artifacts of that realm even though not to my tastes. I've no argument with, nor objection to, the artifacts of popular culture per se. What I argue against, and lodge objection to, is the growing absence of a fundamental aesthetic distinction between, and separate hierarchies of aesthetic value for, such artifacts and the artifacts of the realm of high culture (so-called to distinguish it from the popular sort). Contrary to the pernicious equalitarian conceits of postmodern thinking, there is such a distinction; a self-evident and inarguably real one as I've above noted parenthetically, and no meaningful aesthetic continuum connecting the artifacts of the two realms can be constructed except on the merest technical and taxonomic grounds.

There is, for instance, no aesthetic continuum connecting a painting by Thomas Kinkade and a painting by van Gogh although both are technically and taxonomically paintings celebrating natural light. There is no aesthetic continuum connecting the haunting "Eleanor Rigby" (a favorite of mine) and Schubert's "Death and the Maiden" although each is technically and taxonomically a song about a hapless female confronted by ultimate questions. There doesn't even exist an aesthetic continuum connecting so excellent an example of popular-realm music as Bernstein's overture to West Side Story and, say, the overture to Der Freischütz although each is technically and taxonomically introductory music to a largely sung stage work.

In each case, although technically and taxonomically equivalent, the popular culture and high culture artifacts inhabit two separate aesthetic realms, and can no more be compared on the same aesthetic continuum within the same hierarchy of aesthetic value than can the proverbial apples and oranges be compared, delectable-wise, on the delectability continuum of things-that-one-can-eat-that-grow-on-trees.

So what is it that constitutes the separation of the hierarchies of aesthetic value of the realms of high and popular culture; a separation so marked as to preclude any meaningful aesthetic continuum connecting the artifacts that inhabit each? I suspect the real answer to that question would require a book-length treatise to define and argue persuasively, and I'm neither inclined nor competent to even attempt such a thing. Instead I'll merely risk the suggestion that what separates the artifacts of the two realms — what places them naturally (i.e., as a consequence of their inherent natures) in separate hierarchies of aesthetic value — is embodied in the matter of transcendence, an admittedly highfalutin, high-culture term referring to what is itself a slippery concept.

But we won't let that piddling consideration dissuade us from plunging bravely ahead.

Metaphorically speaking (and once one gets past technical considerations of craft, one can speak of the core matters of aesthetics in no other way), the singular principal hallmark of all artifacts of the realm of high culture is their perceived aspiration to transcendence; transcendence of the quotidian world of experience, of the culture within which they were produced, and even of their very selves as works of art. And that singular hallmark is what's singularly lacking in all the artifacts of the realm of popular culture, their singular principal hallmark being a perceived aspiration to the widely accessible here-and-now entertaining.

Please note, I did not say all the artifacts of the realm of high culture are transcendent. Clearly, only the greatest are. Rather, I said that, in themselves (as distinct from the conscious intentions of their creators), their hallmark characteristic is their perceived quality of aspiring to transcendence. That quality is unmistakable, and can be sensed almost palpably in even, say, the simplest sonata of Mozart's even though Mozart himself may have intended such merely as an occasional composition. Or, say, the sketchiest sketch of Michelangelo even though the artist himself may have just been doodling idly. And the inherent characteristic of such artifacts responsible for that perceived quality of aspiring to transcendence is that such works always contain secrets which are given up only slowly and by repeated visits, and then only to the most searching and probing eye or ear, the greatest works seemingly having an almost limitless store which are never divulged entirely no matter how long and deep the searching and probing. There can be no meaningful aesthetic comparison between works that occupy such a realm with works that occupy a realm where their just as unmistakable and almost palpably sensed hallmark characteristic is their perceived quality of aspiring to the widely accessible here-and-now entertaining; works which by their very nature contain no secrets, or containing them, give them up almost at once. The former seem to be saying, "I am what I will be. Take me or leave me"; the latter, "I'll be whatever you want me to be. Love me."

Well, there's surely nothing amiss or to be sneered at about a work whose perceived hallmark characteristic is its aspiration to be merely widely accessible here-and-now entertaining, and I don't mean to suggest there is. All I'm suggesting is that, as there can be no meaningful aesthetic continuum connecting such works with works whose perceived hallmark characteristic is their aspiration to transcendence, we drop the pernicious postmodern fiction that works of both realms occupy the same hierarchy of aesthetic value, differing only in their details. Such a view serves simply to demean and devalue the works of both realms by denying them the defining virtues peculiar to each.

In short, what I'm suggesting is a return to the hierarchal sobriety that was largely the norm in the pre-postmodern world; a frank admission of the separateness of the hierarchies of aesthetic value of the realms of high and popular culture, and an acceptance of the clear aesthetic distinction between the artifacts inhabiting each.

Seems to me a not unreasonable suggestion.