The following is a guest post from Music Reference Specialist James Wintle.
Let me begin with a personal anecdote. My parents are or were both musicians – my father was a composer – and so my appreciation for classical music was probably equal parts nature and nurture. So, when I entered graduate school as a musicologist and met a fellow student named Masa Yoshioka, who became one of my best friends during my doctoral study, it was more than a little shocking when, during one of our many extended conversations about music, he revealed to me that he did not think that Mozart was a particularly interesting composer. As a musicologist who had come from a previous incarnation as a classical singer, this was tantamount to heresy. However, due to my regard for Masa and his well-thought-out opinions, I did not discount it out of hand. Instead, I took it as a challenge to listen to the music of Mozart and, in fact, the music of all composers, with fresh ears every time I encountered it and to let no preconceptions that I had learned as a child allow me to speak as a child when I heard new works by a composer whom I had been conditioned to revere. It is with this spirit in mind that I hope you will view Glenn Gould’s television segment, How Mozart Became a Bad Composer, which was originally broadcast on a weekly public television series titled Public Broadcast Laboratory in 1968. The Library of Congress National Audio-Visual Conservation Center recently digitized the episode that includes the 37-minute segment from a two-inch tape found in the Library’s collection. It is now available on the web site of the American Archive of Public Broadcasting, which is a collaborative effort by the Library of Congress and WGBH in Boston, Massachusetts.
On the reception of the program, Peter Goddard in The Great Gould (2017) wrote, “Recognizing the outrage-driven ratings possibilities here, the Public Broadcasting [sic] Laboratory series by National Educational Television, the precursor to PBS in the United States, broadcast Gould’s thirty-seven-minute-long How Mozart Became a Bad Composer on April 28, 1968. After that, the show disappeared from sight worldwide, and a version of the script was only uncovered years later by New York-based documentarian Lucille Carra.” Kevin Bazzana in Wondrous Strange: The Life and Art of Glenn Gould (2004) notes, “The program outraged viewers in both the United States and Canada, including formerly sympathetic fans and critics.” The program is now widely available to the public for the first time since its broadcast. Although, ardent Glenn Gould fans may remember his interview in Piano Quarterly, which was reprinted in The Glenn Gould Reader (1984), “Mozart and Related Matters: Glenn Gould in Conversation with Bruno Monsaingeon,” in which he expresses many of the same reservations about Mozart’s music that are heard in the television segment.
Glenn Gould’s unpopular opinions were not solely reserved for the music of Mozart. His April 1962 performance of Brahms’ first piano concerto, with the New York Philharmonic and Leonard Bernstein conducting, gave rise to an extraordinary situation in which Mr. Bernstein disagreed with Gould’s interpretation so vehemently that he felt it necessary to warn the audience beforehand. The performance was subsequently broadcast on the radio with Bernstein’s comments included. A draft copy of those comments can be found in the Leonard Bernstein Collection at the Library of Congress and is available to read online.
However, Gould’s unpopular opinions did not always take a turn toward the negative. His admiration for the music of Paul Hindemith, for example, at a time when the composer was anything but “popular,” led to fantastic recordings of all three of the composer’s piano sonatas, the various sonatas for brass instruments and piano, and his Das Marienleben song cycle.
It is perhaps in his desire to record the music of composers that were not “popular” that we find Gould’s attitude toward the late works of Mozart and many other “big names” in the classical canon comes to bear. The program notes for his recording of the piano music of Jean Sibelius, hardly standard keyboard repertoire, are not filled with unequivocal praise, but rather he treats the music fairly, criticizing the spots that are problematic as well as praising its strengths. He was not trying to justify the fact that he had decided to record relatively unknown works by dubbing them “forgotten masterpieces” or some similarly trite phrase. He was working under the assumption that music is worth exploring for a variety of different reasons and that we, as musicians and music lovers, should learn as much as we can from it. For Gould, a healthy criticism of art was essential for his understanding and appreciation of it and extracting the most revered composers of the classical canon from the deific discourse that surrounds them was the only way that he was able to achieve a fair perspective. This seems to have been his attitude toward the music that he performed, without fail.
From a modern perspective, it is clear that Glenn Gould would not have been good at Twitter. He requires the listener to engage with his argument and follow it to its logical conclusion rather than simply read the title of his lecture and leave an outraged comment. If listeners are willing to do this, they may well come out of the experience having learned something new or, even better, find the inspiration to submit their own opinions to the same intellectual rigor that Mr. Gould consistently employed.