OPINION:
Last week, in this space, I wrote about culture and how essential it is to the politics of a nation. If the culture of a country is upbeat, the country will be fine. If the culture of a country is in decline, its politics will follow.
Simply put, culture prefigures politics. Russia — once referred to as the Soviet Union — is an example of what I have in mind. Imagine mighty Russia struggling with heroic though much smaller Ukraine.
Closer to home, if the culture of a country is infantile, the political issues that the country immerses itself in will be infantile. America now spends an inordinate amount of time administering to the public bathroom needs — or claimed needs — of people who insist they are something other than what their biological manifestations say they are. The whims of congenital malcontents trump biology.
This past week I took in a cultural event, as I do from time to time. I went to the Kennedy Center to take in Beethoven’s Symphony No. 2 as well as his “Egmont Overture” and “Coriolan Overture.” As usual, Beethoven didn’t let me down. The music swept me away. I have been listening to his music for years. I never tire of it. I bet Beethoven blowing his nose would be worth a listen.
The work of another composer was also on the program: a gentleman by the name of George Walker who was an American of color as we now say. He composed the bulk of his work in the last century, and though a gentleman of color, he eschewed the term “Black composer.” He is called a “mature stylist” by the author of the evening’s program notes, who declared that Walker’s music is “firmly rooted in European modernism.” Modernism?
That is about all you need to know to explain the crashing, banging, and otherwise monotonous noises I heard at the Kennedy Center the other night. The piece is called Sinfonia No. 2. While I could leave the Kennedy Center whistling old Ludwig’s Symphony No. 2, to say nothing of his overtures, there was nothing in Walker’s Sinfonia No. 2 to whistle. Not even a vagrant tune to blow one’s nose to.
I think Walker’s snooty way of treating “Black composers” was the beginning of his problems, and the rest of his problems came from his music being “firmly rooted in European modernism.” Why could it not be firmly rooted in Black jazz or gospel music, or rock ’n’ roll?
There is a wealth of tuneful music in various genres to be found in the work of Black Americans. After all, did not Dvorak’s Symphony No. 9 “From the New World” profit from lifting tunes from African American slaves and other American sources? Walker’s Sinfonia No. 2 could have benefited from such larceny.
The other night at the Kennedy Center, I had to sit through what seemed like hours of clangs and bangs and squeaks. Yes, squeaks! I have recently acquired a 4-month-old puppy. She is now being taught by a gifted trainer who emits sounds similar to those emitted by the orchestra laboring to finish Walker’s horrible contribution to “European modernism.”
The dog trainer’s eruptions are supposed to wake the puppy. As I say, the other night, I heard clangs and bangs and squeaks. There was thunder from the timpani, screeches from the violins, and the brass section made a horrible racket. At the piece’s denouement I believe a chicken was heaved onto the stage. No, I think I am mistaken. I think the conductor lost control of his handkerchief. At any rate, it was a night to remember, with or without the chicken.
Surely Walker could have found some Black composer whose music he could appropriate to liven up his tuneless Sinfonia No. 2. How about Duke Ellington? How about Count Basie? I think a stanza or two of Scott Joplin would be welcome. Or if Walker wanted to stick with the highbrow material, why not Florence Price? Or if Price is too much for him, why not Chuck Berry? But as I implied last week, our culture is sick.
• R. Emmett Tyrrell Jr. is founder and editor in chief of The American Spectator. He is a senior fellow at the London Center for Policy Research and the author most recently of “The Death of Liberalism,” published by Thomas Nelson Inc. His memoirs, “How Do We Get Out of Here: Half a Century of Laughter and Mayhem at The American Spectator — From Bobby Kennedy to Donald J. Trump,” will be published by Post Hill Press in September and can be ordered online now from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
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