Académique Documents
Professionnel Documents
Culture Documents
postmodernism
David Bennett
Introducing the twentieth anniversary issue of new formations in Autumn 2007, David Glover and
Scott McCracken agreed with the journal’s founding editor, James Donald, that the days when
the prefix ‘post’ seemed to capture the Zeitgeist were severely numbered. If the prefix (or, as
Glover and McCracken’s Freudian slip had it, ‘the suffix “post”’) had signalled a pervasive sense
of an ending when it came into vogue during the 1980s, we were finally, the editors thought,
glimpsing light at the end of the postmodern tunnel: ‘It has been a long time coming, but
now, at last, “pre” does seem more appropriate than “post”’.1 How long, after all, can a sense
of ending last (the proverbial example of Beethoven’s symphonic endings notwithstanding)
before it becomes a steady state? A feeling that it had been going on just a bit too long seemed
the main rationale for Linda Hutcheon’s call for a re-minting of the term ‘postmodernism’ in
her epigraph to the second edition of her popular book, The Politics of Postmodernism, in 2002.
Having built a distinguished academic career largely on writing about postmodernism in
literature, photography and critical theory, Hutcheon reported her feeling that the term had
reached its use-by date, suggesting that ‘our concepts of both textuality and worldiness’ might
now be changing significantly under the influence of ‘electronic technology and globalisation’-
two factors which, as Hutcheon admits, were nonetheless fundamental to other writers’ analyses
of postmodernity from the outset. Sensing that ‘the postmodern moment has passed, even if
its discursive strategies and its ideological critique continue to live on’, Hutcheon signed off
her epigraph with the invitation: ‘Postmodernism needs a new label of its own, and I conclude,
therefore, with this challenge to readers to find it - and name it for the twenty-first century’.2
In short, the question needs to be addressed: why ‘return’ to that cornerstone or kingpin
of 1980s posts, postmodernism, in this special issue on music? Might there be grounds for
distrusting the numerous obituaries for both the term and the phenomenon (variously defined)
that have been appearing in recent years?
Several commentators in the higher-brow US press have been a good deal bolder than Glover,
McCracken or Hutcheon in announcing the advent of post-postmodernism, and they have
dated postmodernism’s death with even greater precision than Virginia Woolf famously dated
the birth of British modernism by declaring that ‘in or about December, 1910, human character
changed’.3 Among those who date their death-certificates for postmodernism on September
11, 2001 is the press columnist and Columbia University professor of sociology and journalism,
Todd Gitlin, whose 2006 book The Intellectuals and the Flag undertook ‘to resurrect a liberal ideal
of patriotism in the awful aftermath of September 11, 2001’.4 Diagnosing what he termed ‘the
Postmodern Mood’ as a now-obsolete habit of theory-addled scepticism and oppositionality,
Gitlin assured his readers that ‘the Marxism and postmodernism of the left are exhausted’ and
Starting in the 1960s, American culture, for the first time in its brief history, fell victim to a
bad idea, one that for close to a quarter-century held considerable sway over our artists and
critics. All at once, it seemed, we had lost our collective willingness to make value judgements
- to take Duke Ellington seriously while simultaneously acknowledging that Aaron Copland
was the greater composer. In its place, we got postmodernism, which not only denied that
either man was great, but rejected the very idea of greatness itself. 7
New Formations
and ‘barbarism’, which underpin the Western cultural tradition now under attack from ‘Osama
bin Laden and his cronies, the ones who banned secular music from Afghanistan’. Within a
few days of the 9/11 attacks, American musicians had begun giving memorial concerts - not of
Schoenberg, Stockhausen or Cage, but of Bach, Brahms and Verdi - to which the public had
flocked, demonstrating that ‘what Americans wanted in their time of need was beauty’. While
Teachout suggested that 9/11 ‘may well have brought an end to the unthinking acceptance of
postmodern relativism’, he acknowledged that the ‘collective renewal of belief in the power of
truth and beauty did not suddenly take place on the morning of September 11, 2001. It was
already in the wind’ - as was evident in the emergence of what Teachout identified as a new,
post-postmodern kind of concert-music that combines the postmodernists’ tolerance of stylistic
eclecticism with a new-found, irony-free faith in beauty.9 The ‘New Tonalists’ include composers
such as Paul Moravec, René Gruss (whose project of ‘New Media, Old Beauty’ promises to marry
the Internet with the ‘natural classical’ crafts of realist drawing, melodic music and metrically
regular poetry, ‘bypassing the moribund modernist-postmodernist order’10) and Rabbi Arnold
Saltzman, whose 2003 American Symphony, subtitled Religious Freedom in Early America, was
welcomed as ‘unabashedly patriotic’ by a reviewer in the Washington Times who characterised
the New Tonalists as ‘composers advancing into the past’.11
Much the same story of post-postmodernism as a re-connection with Western European
aesthetic traditions that were ‘interrupted’ by modernism and postmodernism can be found in
criticism of the visual arts. The American poet and art-critic, Donald Kuspit’s 2004 book, The
End of Art identifies postmodernism with ‘suicidal intellectualism’ and the ‘anti-aesthetic postart’
of Andy Warhol and Damien Hirst - the death-gasp of a tradition of devaluing the aesthetic
that was begun by Duchamp and Barnett Newman.12 In his concluding chapter, however, Kuspit
reassures the reader that what Alan Krapow dubbed ‘postart’ (which ‘elevates the banal over
the enigmatic, the scatological over the sacred, cleverness over creativity’13) was, after all, ‘not a
point of no return’. The lifeless, litter-strewn, inspirationally-bankrupt studio of postmodernism,
emblematised in Bruce Nauman’s video-installation, Mapping the Studio 1 (Fat Chance John
Cage) (2001), ‘has come to life again, signalling what might be called post-postmodernity’.14
As for Gitlin and Teachout, so for Kuspit, what postdates postmodernism turns out to be what
predated it: post-postmodernism ‘is a New Old Master art’ that ‘brings together the spirituality
and humanism of the Old Masters and the innovation and criticality of the Modern Masters’,
placing a new-old premium on craft, embodying its concepts organically in its objects, while
offering ‘aesthetic transcendence’.15 Such New Old Masters as Lucian Freud, Avigdor Arikha,
Jenny Saville, Julie Heffernan and David Bierk - all ‘visionary humanists with a complete mastery
of their craft’ - ‘attempt to revive high art in defiance of postart’ and thus ‘restore art’s depth
of meaning’ and ‘offer something that does not exist in post-art: beauty’.16 The cover of The
End of Art features one of Damian Hirst’s notorious ashtray artworks, which a janitor famously
swept up and binned after an opening at Eyestorm Gallery in 2001, taking it to be the fallout
of a gallery party. Kuspit’s book undertakes a similar clean sweep of the postmodern Augean
studios, in order to make room for the hitherto sidelined new-traditionalists who have kept faith
with the canonical tradition of Western bourgeois art.
The neo-conservative signatures on many of the death certificates of postmodernism and
10 New Formations
was ‘Revolution can be avoided’: modernist architecture would solve class-society’s historical
problems through its reinvention of lived space. The modern movement’s International Style
dictated a tabula rasa approach to local topography, the creation of a universal, place-less, flat
site; the eradication of all ‘bourgeois’ ornament from buildings; the determination of form by
function; use of only the most ‘rational’, efficient, modern materials and the supposedly class-less
aesthetic appeal of simple geometrical forms such as squares, circles and triangles. Promising
emancipation from tradition, superstition and hierarchy, architecture’s grand narrative of
modernisation promised a moulding of rational social behaviour with rational design. It was
the anomie and vandalism that had, by the late 1950s, signalled the failure of the International
Style’s rationalistic mass-housing projects and anonymous, curtain-wall office-blocks that would
vindicate postmodernist architecture’s altered modes of addressing its users with stylistic diversity,
hybridity, neo-traditionalism, irony and play.
Of the multiple strands of musical modernism that competed for ascendancy in the early
twentieth century, the one that proved most successful in prosecuting its claims to be more modern
than the rest, and hence in rewriting musical history to justify itself as the telos of that history,
was the so-called Second Viennese School of Arnold Schoenberg and his pupils, Anton Webern
and Alban Berg (the first Viennese school having supposedly comprised another triumvirate,
Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven). The metanarrative of musical modernism traditionally begins
with the hybris of Schoenberg and his hard-line advocacy of atonal and serialist composition as
the ‘logical’ culmination of musical history, and it continues with the vehement championing
of Schoenberg’s faith in the ethical and historical ‘necessity’ of his methods by post-World War
II critics of the stature of Theodor Adorno and René Leibowitz. Schoenberg’s theory of ‘the
emancipation of the dissonance’26 has been described as a metanarrative to justify atonality. Much
as his modernist counterparts in architecture, economics, psychology or political science were
constructing metanarratives of ineluctable, universal human progress in their own disciplines,
Schoenberg elaborated a theory of irreversible progress in the history of music, whose telos
was the liberation of sound from the tyranny of a tonic or ‘key’. The extreme chromaticism of
Wagner and Franck in the nineteenth century had gradually obscured the tonal foundations of
music and they were disappearing altogether in the twentieth century, making atonalism - music
completely emancipated from the diatonic scale and traditional chord sequences - the logical
outcome. Departures from the rules of tonality produce dissonances, which create tensions,
which are the source of much of the dynamism of tonal music; but their legitimacy in tonal
music depends on their being ‘resolved’ - on the neutralising of their disruptive effect on the
whole. As Adorno would explain in The Philosophy of New Music (1949), the unity of tonal music
is the very image of bourgeois or ‘organized society’.27 The new in ‘New Music’ is what stands
out and is not neutralised; it is the dissonance that is not resolved back into unity: an expression
of singularity, of the concrete individuality of the single element, which resists participating
in the unity of the work. Tonality is social: it is both a convention and expression of social
experience. And just as the modern, post-fascist individual is alienated, alone, so modern art
must be an expression of alienated subjectivity. Twelve-tone composition (alias dodecaphony
or, combined with set theory, serialism) was the rigorously ‘logical’ elaboration of atonality that
Schoenberg unveiled in 1923 as the ‘method of composing with twelve tones which are related
12 New Formations
Meanwhile, Schoenberg himself had reinforced the ‘necessity’ of his atonal experimentation
with the language of Social Darwinism and eugenics. His Harmonielehre (‘theory of harmony’,
written during the summer of 1910) is an autopsy of a diseased system, a musical language
that had become degenerate - lost its purity and strength - through ‘inbreeding and incest’ in
the nineteenth century.33 The need to ‘emancipate’ sound from a decadent tonal system into a
‘healthy’, ‘democratic’, atonal music was both historically logical and morally necessary.
In the same year as The Philosophy of New Music appeared (1949), Schoenberg and his School
was published by René Leibowitz, who has been described as leading ‘a one-man propaganda
campaign of formidable intensity for the Schoenberg school’.34 A Polish Jew who had drafted
most of his book while in hiding in the French countryside during the Nazi occupation, Leibowitz
explained in his preface that atonality displayed ‘uncompromising moral strength’ and that he
had ‘understood from the beginning that it was the only genuine and inevitable expression
of the musical art of our time’.35 Twelve-tone music, for Leibowitz, was ‘a new path untainted
by fascism … it expressed for him freedom of the human spirit through its very materials’.36
Meanwhile, Adorno’s insistence that modern music had to eradicate all familiar sounds and
conventional ideas of beauty, and that in a world of ascendant kitsch it had to become a mirror-
image of spiritual and physical destruction, proved a call-to-arms for young iconoclasts like Pierre
Boulez (dubbed ‘the arch-apostle of modernism’ by Shostakovich)37 and Karlheinz Stockhausen
(‘the crown prince of the new-music kingdom’, in Alex Ross’s phrase)38 to re-forge the avant-
garde during the 1950s in modernist music-gatherings at Darmstadt and Donaueschingen,
where the so-called ‘new politics of style’ were played out between opposing schools centred
on Schoenberg and Stravinsky. With Stravinsky’s neoclassicism clearly in his sights, Adorno
argued that any preservation of tonality in the modern period betrayed symptoms of the fascist
personality, and he tarred Hindemith’s Gebrauchsmusik (‘music for use’) with the brush of Nazi
kitsch. Stockhausen meanwhile summed up the emancipation that atonalism and serialism had
achieved: ‘Schoenberg’s great achievement … was to claim freedom for composers: freedom from
the prevailing taste of society and its media; freedom for music to evolve without interference’.39
Schoenberg himself mobilised the rhetoric of messianism in support of his utopian vision of
emancipation and salvation, professing a mystical conviction that he had been elected to proclaim
the ‘law’ of dodecaphony (and suffer for it) on ‘orders from the Supreme Commander’.40
With the benefit of twenty-first-century hindsight - knowing, in other words, how Schoenberg’s
dissonances would filter ‘down’ into such distinctive genres as bebop jazz and horror-movie
soundtracks, and how such seminal works of postmodern art-music as Terry Riley’s ‘In C’ would
reassert tonality with a vengeance - it can be hard to imagine an earlier historical moment when
Schoenberg’s atonalism carried the threat that all music would sound like that.41 But such was
the hegemonic view in many conservatoria in the 1960s and 1970s, according both to now-
‘canonical’ postmodern composers such as John Adams and Philip Glass42 and to the author
of the first essay in this special issue, the distinguished musicologist Susan McClary. McClary
recalls how ‘Composers who wanted to gain any foothold in North American and European
circles had to - I repeat: HAD to - submit to serialism. To paraphrase Allen Ginsburg, I saw the
best minds of my generation destroyed by pitch-class sets … In many parts of Europe, North
America and Australia, the stranglehold of serialism was such that composers in the 1970s
… the late twentieth-century’s bad music was pervasively ugly, pretentious, and meaningless,
yet backed up by a technical apparatus that justified it and even earned it prestigious awards.
Twelve-tone technique - the South Sea Bubble of music history, to which hundreds and
perhaps thousands of well-intended composers sacrificed their careers like lemmings, and
all for nothing - brought music to the lowest point in the history of mankind. Twelve-tone
music is now dead, everyone grudgingly admits, yet its pitch-set-manipulating habits survive
in far-flung corners of our musical technique like residual viruses.44
Stressing the cathartic psychological benefits of a fin de millénium, Gann pointed out that
‘postmodern 21st-century music has been around for years, and the last argument for denying
its existence has just collapsed. Treating “20th-century” and “modernist” as synonymous was
a critical ploy for keeping modernism alive and current-seeming long after the aesthetic had
begun to erode in the 1970s’.45 Gann went on to accuse Uptown critics of pouncing ‘on every
young composer, no matter how mediocre, who promised to extend the lease on modernism a
few more years’, and provocatively suggested that composers such as John Zorn, Tan Dun, Aaron
Kernis, Brian Ferneyhough and Thomas Ades had all benefited from that psychology.
It’s not that Uptowners still write 12-tone music—they boast that they’ve transcended the
‘row’ concept, and they have to boast because you can’t tell that by listening. But they do
believe that the tenets of high modernism, like the Third Reich in 1933, are here to stay for
a thousand years. My friends in other arts find this incomprehensible, for in no other field
do academics insist that history has reached a stopping point.46
If we are to credit critics such as Sim and Gann, then, rumours of postmodernism’s death
have been exaggerated. Some takers of our cultural pulse clearly think there is still breath left
in the body of postmodernism and good critical work for it to do, not least in interpreting
contemporary music. Meanwhile, the complaint that ‘postmodernism’ seems an inadequate
label for the rich multiplicity of ways in which musicians and sound-artists have departed from
or ignored the precepts of musical high-modernism since the 1960s is at risk of missing the
point that one of the things ‘postmodernism’ names is precisely the ethos of pluralism that
becomes institutionalised when hierarchies of tastes, styles and cultural traditions - which once
ordered a plurality of practices into ranks of relative merit and modernity - have lost their
authority. This was something on which both the high priest of post-war musical modernism,
Pierre Boulez, and the Ur-theorist of postmodernism, Jean-François Lyotard, could agree. Both
14 New Formations
of them looked down with Adorno’s Olympian disdain on the stylistic pluralism and ‘levelling’
of taste-cultures that develop with the globalisation of cultural markets and a corresponding
suspicion of universal yardsticks of aesthetic value, which typify music’s postmodern condition.
What others have celebrated as a postmodern democratisation of taste-cultures, both Boulez
and Lyotard lamented as a laissez-faire pseudo-aesthetic - an anything-goes-if-it-sells ethos, in
which artistic value becomes indistinguishable from market value, alias ‘popular’ tastes. Here
is Boulez, in dialogue with Michel Foucault in 1983:
Ah! Pluralism! There’s nothing like it for curing incomprehension … Be liberal, be generous
towards the tastes of others, and they will be generous to yours. Everything is good, nothing
is bad; there aren’t any values, but everyone is happy. This discourse, as liberating as it may
wish to be, reinforces, on the contrary, the ghettos, comforts one’s clear conscience for being
in a ghetto, especially if, from time to time one tours the ghettos of others. The economy is
there to remind us, in case we get lost in this bland utopia: there are musics which bring in
money and exist for commercial profit; there are musics … whose very concept has nothing
to do with profit. No liberalism will erase this distinction … an ecumenicism of musics …
seems to me nothing but a supermarket aesthetic …47
And here is Lyotard, airing his modernist aesthetic credentials in his 1982 essay, ‘Answering the
Question: What Is Postmodernism?’:
Eclecticism is the degree zero of contemporary culture … It is easy to find a public for eclectic
works … Artists, gallery owners, critics and public wallow in the ‘anything goes’ … But this
realism of the ‘anything goes’ is in fact that of money; in the absence of aesthetic criteria, it
remains possible and useful to assess the value of works of art according to the profits they
yield. Such realism accommodates all tendencies, just as capital accommodates all ‘needs’,
providing that the tendencies and needs have purchasing power.48
As Lyotard later illustrated in his writings on music and postmodernity, his avant-gardist aesthetic
had no time for Warholian deconstructions of the modernist dichotomy between Art and the
commodity-form, nor for the discourse of cultural fluidity and hybridity that underwrites the
eclectic polystylism of much postmodern music. Few of the disparate developments characteristic
of postmodern art-music since the 1970s - ranging from minimalism, ‘process music’, ‘the new
simplicity’, polystylistic pastiche and the ‘nostalgia mode’ to ‘complexism’, ‘crossover music’,
‘world music’, and ambient interactive sound-art - would have passed Lyotard’s aesthetic
muster.49
Another reason for ‘returning’ to postmodernism in this special issue is to review what
amounts to a truism, if not a truth, in the survey-literature on postmodern culture, which still
reports that musicologists have been reluctant to come to the postmodern party and lend a hand
in mixing the cocktails of aesthetics, politics and philosophy that theorists and practitioners of
postmodernism in other arts have been stirring and shaking for a good three decades. Such
Virgilian guides to the terrain as Tim Woods, Christopher Butler and Steven Connor (whose
16 New Formations
in ‘integral’ or ‘total serialism’, in which not only the twelve pitches of the chromatic scale but
also other elements such as rhythm, dynamics, register and instrumentation are organised into
ordered sets on mathematical models. In ‘More PoMo Than Thou’, McClary recalls how the
New Musicologists’ insistence on finding contestable meanings in musical form coincided with
the emergence of such ‘Downtown’ composers as Steve Reich, Laurie Anderson and Meredith
Monk, whose music embraced pop-cultural material and spoke to the life-worlds of its audiences.
McClary also correlates postmodernist stylistic eclecticism with the rise of identity politics in the
US. Reporting her generation’s sense of the plurality of ‘little narratives’ (to use Lyotard’s term)
that seemed capable of blooming once high modernism’s metanarrative had been demoted to
the status of just one among other little narratives, or merely ‘one particularly stringent special
interest’, McClary recalls how ‘suddenly it was possible - even desirable - to compose from the
subject-position of a woman, an Australian, a gay man, an African American or a mystic from
the former Soviet Union’. But this opening of the art-music terrain to identity politics also
raised divisive questions about the ethics and economics of cultural exchange, appropriation,
commoditisation, and the reconcilability of aesthetic pleasure with ethics - questions McClary
explores in the latter half of her article through her commentary on the work of ‘a recent
posterchild of postmodernist music’, Osvaldo Golijov, an Argentinian composer of Eastern-
European Jewish descent and a bricoleur of musical appropriations from Yiddish, Catholic,
Protestant, folkloric, flamenco and Afro-Cuban traditions. Writing in valedictory mode about
her generation’s contribution to the overhaul of high-modernist musical aesthetics, McClary
imagines possible musicological post-postmodernisms and suggests that one of them might be
precisely a rejection of the New Musicology’s view of music as meaning-laden sound - a prospect
from which McClary is ready to retreat back into ‘that Old Time Postmodernism’.
It was that Ur-text of ‘post’ thought, Lyotard’s The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge,
that inspired what Perry Anderson calls ‘a street-level relativism that often passes - in the eyes
of friends and foes alike - for the hallmark of postmodernism’; but a curiosity of the book was
that it didn’t investigate the implications of postmodernity for Lyotard’s own twin passions of art
and politics.53 Lyotard partially redressed this omission in his essay ‘Musique et Postmodernité’,
published in Canada in 1996 and re-published in English translation for the first time in this issue
of new formations, with the kind permission of Lyotard’s literary executrix, Mme Dolores Lyotard.
At the time of writing The Postmodern Condition, Lyotard had been unaware of postmodernism’s
currency in architecture as a label for the stylistic eclecticism and pastiche that were anathema to
his own avant-garde tastes - or what, in ‘Music and Postmodernity’, he dismisses as the ‘citation,
ornamentation, kitsch, parody, the neo-this and the post-that’ which he saw as pandering
to the lowest common denominator of aesthetic populism. Explaining how The Postmodern
Condition’s arguments about grand narrative bear on the history of Western art music, ‘Music
and Postmodernity’ illustrates how central music was to Lyotard’s aesthetic theory, as it was to
that of other French poststructuralists. (Even Derrida - having confessed to a tin ear when he
admitted that ‘music is the object of my strongest desire, and yet at the same time it remains
completely forbidden. I don’t have the competence, I don’t have any truly presentable musical
culture. Thus my desire remains completely paralyzed’ - later accepted Ornette Coleman’s
invitation to collaborate with him by writing and performing words for a jazz concert staged at
18 New Formations
is any essence of music. Connor posits an antinomy between two ‘characteristically postmodern’
principles: the ideal of an unrestricted economy of music, facilitated by new technologies of
sound (re)production and transmission that allow for a spatial diffusion of music which he
describes as its conversion from form into field; and the ideal of what the Canadian acoustic
theorist and composer R. Murray Schafer called ‘acoustic ecology’. The self-styled ‘father’ of
the acoustic ecology movement and founder of the World Soundscape Project in the late 1960s,
Schafer undertook and inspired a wide range of research into humans’, animals’ and insects’
sonic and acoustic plottings, readings and manipulations of space, and into the question of
what might constitute a ‘balanced’ acoustic economy, which he defined as a hi-fi environment,
possessing a favourable signal-to-noise ratio, in contrast to a lo-fi environment in which
excessive ambient noise destroys acoustic perspective. Approaching ‘the world soundscape as
a macrocosmic musical composition’, Schafer’s The Music of the Environment (1973) proposed
an Adamic view of the composer as sonic gardener, charged with the responsibility of tending
the world’s soundscape and preventing it from running to acoustic weed: ‘Is the soundscape
of the world an indeterminate composition over which we have no control’, he asked, ‘or are
we its composers and performers, responsible for giving it form and beauty?’56 In an era of
increasingly naturalised noise-pollution, Schafer argued, noise-abatement programmes were
not enough: ‘We must seek a way to make environmental acoustics a positive study program.
Which sounds do we want to preserve, encourage, multiply? … Only a total appreciation of the
acoustic environment can give us the resources for improving the orchestration of the world’.
Schafer warned sound-artists, composers, installation-artists, planners and architects of their
responsibilities toward the Nature of this global soundscape: ‘If synthetic sounds are introduced,
if we venture to produce what I would call “the soniferous garden”, care must be taken to ensure
that they are sympathetic vibrations of the garden’s original notes … reinforcements of natural
sounds’.57 Implying that such a project and even such a distinction between original and synthetic
sounds are a lost cause, Connor proposes an ‘auditory ecology’ concerned not with preserving
and clarifying sound-objects in a ‘balanced’ sonic economy, but with negotiating the distinctions
between listening and hearing in which musical and non-musical sounds are phenomenologically
constituted as such. Connor concludes with the distinctly post-Cageian proposition, ‘Now that
music can be anything, perhaps it should not be everything’.
The constructivist critique of the avant-garde’s fetishisation of ‘the surprise of the event’
(to use Jean-Luc Nancy’s phrase) as a moment of radical rupture poses such questions as: who
decides what counts as an ‘event’, when it begins or ends, and what is ‘internal’ or ‘external’ to
that event? Notwithstanding my criticisms of Lyotard’s avant-gardism in ‘Lyotard, Post-Politics
and Riotous Music’, the idea of music-as-event is developed in a Deleuzian direction in Claire
Colebrook’s and my article, ‘The Sonorous, the Haptic and the Intensive’. Reflecting on works
of contemporary sound-art and music by the Australians, David Chesworth and Sonia Leber,
and the Scottish composer, James Macmillan, we contrast two possible understandings of
musical postmodernism: on one hand, as a deconstructive art that denaturalises preconstituted
relationships between composition, performance and listener; and, on the other hand, a more
‘positive’ understanding of musical postmodernism, as sound that has the power to constitute
relations through its capacity to transform bodies, organs and territories. ‘The Sonorous, the
20 New Formations
the concept of ‘world music’ (or, in US parlance, ‘world beat’). World music has been defined
variously as: the generic hybridism resulting from Western appropriations of non-Western folk
and traditional musics; as the soundscape of the decentred global cultural marketplace; as
progressive multiculturalism in the music industry, indicating postcolonial ‘feedback’ in the
previously ‘one-way’ flow of cultural influence in global communications; or as an early 1980s
marketing concept and signifier of a Western taste-culture disaffected with the hype of global
corporate culture and looking to non-Western music for local tradition and ‘authenticity’.60 Two
discourses have tended to dominate debates about the ethics and aesthetics of world music since
the early 1990s: a discourse of authenticity, ownership, theft and appropriation; and a discourse
of fluidity, hybridity and collaborative exchange. The first discourse is informed by neo-Marxist
analyses of imperialism, and the second underpinned by postmodern anti-essentialist theories
of the performative, dialogical and porous nature of all cultural identities. These two discourses,
in turn, have generated two kinds of narratives of world music, which have been characterised
as ‘anxious’ and ‘celebratory’ narratives respectively.61 Andrew Hurley’s article, ‘Postnationalism,
Postmodernism and the German Discourses of Weltmusik’ explores the tensions between such
‘anxious’ and ‘celebratory’ narratives in a specifically German debate about Weltmusik, to which
musicians as diverse as Karlheinz Stockhausen, Joachim-Ernst Berendt (organiser of the Jazz
Meets the World Series and Weltmusik summits) and the ‘Krautrock’ group CAN have contributed
since the 1960s. Hurley shows how the distinctively German anti-nationalist Weltmusik discourse,
emerging from the German jazz scene well before the marketing tag ‘world music’ caught on in
Anglophone culture in the 1980s, has been informed by the trauma of National Socialism but
also by anxieties about the breakdown of grand narratives, utopian hopes inspired by processes
of globalisation, and dreams of a new wholeness. Hurley’s overview of the origins and trajectories
of the debate illustrates how Weltmusik discourse plays out the simultaneously fragmenting
and homogenising tendencies of postmodern culture by uneasily combining its celebration of
cultural inauthenticity and questioning of earlier German notions of cultural essentialism with
fantasies of racial harmony which displace the trauma of the Holocaust.
In contrast to the located yet mobile, gendered and ethnicised yet hybrid and even cyborgian,
postmodern composer, high modernism’s composer was nothing if not a transcendent Expert
whose unique intentionality - distilled in what Schoenberg called ‘the idea’ of the piece, inscribed
in its score - it was the duty of the serious listener to recover through the practice of ‘structural
listening’.62 The traditional hierarchy of composer–performer–audience in the concert tradition
is a hierarchy of diminishing authority over the meanings of music: the composer conceives,
the performer interprets, the audience receives, while the conception of music-as-score, or text,
abstracts music from the contingent events of its performances and predicates immutability of its
‘idea’, its ‘meaning’, even its value. (From Schoenberg and Webern to Boulez, the serialists typically
treated music as language - as in Boulez’s description of the twelve-tone system as ‘le langage
dodécaphonique’.63) John Scannell explores a very different view of the composer in his article on
the so-called Godfather of Soul, ‘James Brown and the “Illogic” of Innovation’, in which he brings
Deleuze’s concept of the ‘Idiot’ to bear on the relationship between compositional expertise and
innovation in contemporary popular music. Brown’s public acclaim as a musical ‘visionary’ was
counterpointed by the private disdain of many of the ‘trained’ musicians in his bands, who scorned
22 New Formations
in the Deleuzian sense of literature constructed by a minority in a major language), approaching
them as compositions of memory in the genres of, respectively, folk, country, atonal modernist
and rock music. Breyley suggests that the memoirists’ texts be read ‘as a kind of “vocalese”, the
adaptation of new words and many voices to pre-arranged ancestral melodies, to tell stories and
pay tribute to the composers and previous performers of those tunes’. In such works of memory,
popular and national discourses can be heard as key-setting ‘bass drones’ underneath the ‘melodies’
of personal memory, and narrative voices and themes can be recognised as organised by principles
like counterpoint, improvisation, ornamentation, and what Schencker called the ‘horizontalising’
or ‘melodicising’ of chords.
In the concluding essay of this issue, the musicologist Judy Lochhead takes stock of American
debates about postmodernism in art music since the 1960s. When Lochhead and Joseph
Auner introduced their conference collection Postmodern Music/Postmodern Thought in 2002,
they suggested several reasons for what they saw as a paucity of critical debate on ‘issues of
philosophical, cultural and aesthetic postmodernism’ in music studies, including the tendency
of many New Musicologists to focus their analyses on pre-1945 concert music rather than
on contemporary music, and the reluctance of contemporary composers themselves to write
commentaries on their own or their colleagues’ music, in striking contrast to the manifesto-
penning habits of earlier generations.65 In ‘Naming: Music and Postmodernism’, Lochhead
concedes that there is some truth in Steven Connor’s verdict that ‘the relative conservatism
and autonomy of academic music study may account for its long resistance to postmodernist
formulations and arguments’,66 but she suggests that musicologists are distrustful of reflex
valorisations of cultural fusions, hybridisations and border-crossings for their own sake, given
how asymmetrical the economic and cultural exchanges involved in them often are; hence their
mistrust of the concept of postmodernism, Lochhead suggests. But she also points out that,
after World War II, music-theory and music-analysis became the job of composers primarily
interested in writing technical accounts of how music is made and confident that musical structure
determines musical experience. Since most music scholars still begin their training as composers
and performers in conservatoria and not in arts faculties, they are products of an academic
culture that has kept itself comparatively immune from the theory-virus that was transmitted so
rapidly between humanities disciplines in the 1980s and 1990s. Lochhead’s article samples art-
music compositions from the 1960s to the 1990s, by such composers as Luciano Berio, George
Rochberg, Charles Dodge and Sofia Gubaidulina, and sounds contemporary critical responses
to them for evidence of the concerns that have clustered under the postmodern umbrella in
other disciplines, suggesting that they can indeed be found there, but often by other names.
What Lochhead’s brief survey suggests, in the end, is a satisfactory absence from recent art-music
history of a grand narrative that we could agree to label postmodernist.
Notes
1. David Glover and Scott McCracken, ‘The Bad New Days’, new formations 62 (Autumn 2007): 7.
2. Linda Hutcheon, The Politics of Postmodernism, second edition, London and New York, Routledge, 2002,
3. Virginia Woolf, ‘Mr. Bennett and Mrs. Brown’ (1924) , Critical Essays, Volume One, London, Hogarth Press,
1966, p320.
4. Todd Gitlin, The Intellectuals and the Flag, New York, Columbia University Press, 2006, p7.
5. Ibid., pp1-7.
7. Terry Teachout, ‘The Return of Beauty’, US Society of Values, an electronic publication of the Office of
International Information Programs, US Department of State, April 2003: http://usinfo.state.gov/journals/
itsv/0403/ijse/teachout.htm (accessed 13/3/07)
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid.
10. See Gruss’s NewBohemia website at http://www.renegruss.com, and Frederick Turner, ‘New Media,
New Beauty’, New Bohemia, Web-zine of New Realism in the Arts, http://www.newbohemia.net/Library/Articles/
NewMedia_OldBeauty.htm (accessed 4/4/08).
11. T. L. Ponick, ‘Composers Advance Into Past’, Washington Times Arts supplement, 28 June, 2003, p1.
12. Donald Kuspit, The End of Art, New York, Cambridge University Press, 2004.
13. ‘Dialog between Donald Kuspit and Donna Marxer’, Artists Talk On Art: Critical Dialog in the Visual Arts,
ATOA Panel Transcript, 10 December 2004: http://www.atoa.org/sales/kuspit.htm (accessed 4/4/08).
15. Ibid.
17. Stuart Sim, Fundamentalist World: The New Dark Age of Dogma, Cambridge: Icon, 2004, and Empires of Belief:
Why We Need More Scepticism and Doubt in the Twenty-First Century, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 2006.
18. Fredric Jameson, Postmodernism, or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism, Durham, NC, Duke University
Press, 1991, p5.
19. See Hal Foster, ‘Postmodernism: A Preface’, in Hal Foster (ed.), The Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Postmodern
Culture, Port Townsend, Wash., Bay Press, 1983, pxii.
20. See Stuart Sim, ‘Don’t blame the postmodernists’, signandsight.com, 21/02/07 http://www.signandsight.
com/features/1216.html
23. Stuart Sim, ‘Preface to the Second Edition’, The Routledge Companion to Postmodernism, Stuart Sim (ed),
London; New York, Routledge, 2005, ppvii-viii.
24. See Kyle Gann, ‘The great divide: uptown composers are stuck in the past’ (9 July 1996), in Music
Downtown: Writings from the Village Voice, Berkeley, University of California Press, 2006, pp136-39.
25. Jean-François Lyotard, The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, Geoff Bennington and Brian
Massumi (trans), foreword by Fredric Jameson, Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1984, ppxxiv and 82.
26. Arnold Schoenberg, Style and Idea, ed. Leonard Stein, Leo Black (trans), Berkeley, University of California
Press, 1975, p216.
27. See Theodor W. Adorno, Philosophy of New Music, Robert Hullot-Kentor (ed and trans), Minneapolis and
24 New Formations
London, University of Minnesota Press, 2006, pp50-53.
30. Arnold Schoenberg, ‘New Music, Outmoded Music, Style and Idea’ (1946), in Style and Idea, Leonard Stein
(ed), Leo Black (trans), Berkeley, University of California Press, 1975, pp113-24.
31. Hans Severus Ziegler, ‘Die Düsseldorfer Reichsmusiktage’, Völkischer Beobachter, May 27, 1938, quoted in
Alex Ross, The Rest Is Noise: Listening to the Twentieth Century, New York, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2007, p321.
32. For discussions of the politics of the US government’s promotion of modernist music during the Cold War,
see: Frances Stonor Saunders, Who Paid the Piper? The CIA and the Cultural Cold War, London: Granta Books,
1999; Ian Wellens, Music on the Frontline: Nicolas Nabokov’s Struggle Against Communism and Middlebrow Culture,
Aldershot, Hants.: Ashgate, 2002; and Mark Carroll, Music and Ideology in Cold War Europe, Cambridge: CUP,
2003. For the Central Communist Party directive to the All-Union Congress of Soviet Composers in 1958, see
C. Vaughan James, Soviet Socialist Realism, London, Macmillam, 1973, p88.
33. Arnold Schoenberg, Theory of Harmony, Roy Carter (trans), London: Faber and Faber, 1978, p314.
34. Anne C. Shreffler, ‘The Myth of Empirical Historiography: A response to Joseph N. Straus’, Musical
Quartlery 84, 1 (Spring 2000): 5.
35. René Leibowitz, Schoenberg and His School: The Contemporary Stage of the Language of Music, Dika Newlin
(trans), 1949; New York, Da Capo Press, 1970, ppxvi and x.
37. Isaak Glikman, Story of a Friendship: The Letters of Dimitri Shostakovich to Isaak Glikman, 1914-1975, Anthony
Phillips (trans), Cornell University Press, 2001, p193
39. Anders Beyer, The Voice of Music: Conversations with Composers of Our Time, J. Christensen and A. Beyer (ed
and trans), London, Ashgate, 2000, p178.
40. Schoenberg, quoted in Joan Peyser, To Boulez and Beyond: Music in Europe Since the Rite of Spring, New York,
Billboard Books, 1999, p35,
42. For Adams’ verdict on his experience as a music student at Harvard in the late 1960s (‘I was interested in
jazz and rock, and then I would go into the music department, which was like a mausoleum where we would sit
and count tone-rows in Webern. It was a dreadful time’), see Kyle Gann, American Music in the Twentieth Century,
New York, Schirmer Books, 1997, p229; and for Glass’s famous verdict on the modernist music-scene presided
over by Boulez in Paris in the 1960s (‘a wasteland dominated by these maniacs, these complete creeps, you know
- who were trying to make everyone write this crazy, creepy music … My music is an affront to anyone who
takes that kind of music seriously’, see his interview with Robert Ashley, (Landscape with Philip Glass’, in Music
with Roots in the Aether: Opera for Television 2, New York: Lovely Music, 1976, p43. See, too, John Rockwell, All
American who takes that kind of music seriously’), see his interview with Robert Ashley, ‘Music: Composition in the
Late Twentieth Century, New York, Alfred A. Knopf, 1983, p111.
44. Kyle Gann, ‘Ding! dong! the witch is dead: modernism loses its grip as the odometer turns over’ (25 January
2000), in Music Downtown: Writings from the Village Voice, Berkeley, University of California Press, 2006, p145.
45. Ibid.
47. Boulez, ‘Contemporary Music and the Public’, 1983, op. cit., ppp317 and 321.
49. For a detailed discussion of trends and debates in postmodernist art music and sound-art, see Part 1 of my
Sounding Postmodernism: Sampling Australian Composers, Sound Artists and Music Critics, Sydney, Australian Music
Centre, 2008.
50. See Steven Connor, ‘Introduction’, Cambridge Companion to Postmodernism, Cambridge, Cambridge
University Press, 2004, p17; Tim Woods, Beginning Postmodernism, Manchester and New York, Manchester
University Press, 1999, p179; and Christopher Butler, Postmodernism: A Very Short Introduction, Oxford, Oxford
University Press, 2002, pp74-75.
51. Derek Scott stresses this difference between American New Muscology and British Critical Musicology in
his ‘Postmodernism and Music’, in Stuart Sim (ed.), The Icon Dictionary of Postmodern Thought, Cambridge: Icon
Books, 1998, pp144-45.
52. The phrase appeared in a piece by McClary in the January 1987 issue of Minnesota Composers’ Forum
Newsletter and was modified for inclusion in her Feminine Endings: Music, Gender and Sexuality, University of
Minnesota Press, 1991, p128.
54. See David Wills, ‘Notes towards a requiem: or the music of memory.(Jacques Derrida)’, Mosaic (Winnipeg)
39, 3 (Sept 2006): 27-47.
55. Jean-François Lyotard, Dérive à partir de Marx et Freud, Paris, 1973, p20, translated and quoted in Anderson,
Origins of Postmodernity, op. cit., pp27-28.
56. R. Murray Schafer, ‘The Music of the Environment’, in Audio Culture: Readings in Modern Music, Christoph
Cox and Daniel Warner (ed), New York and London, Continuum, 2005, p30.
58. Bruce Johnson, The Inaudible Music: Jazz, Gender and Australian Modernity, Sydney, Currency Press, 2000,
p174.
59. Michael Bull, ‘Sounding Out Cosmpolitanism: iPod Culture and Recognition’, keynote lecture at Music,
Culture and Society conference, Monash University, Victoria, Australia, 6 March 2008. Cf. Michael Bull, Sound
Moves: iPod Culture and Urban Experience, London and New York, Routledge, 2007.
60. For a range of perspectives on world music, see Viet Erlmann, ‘The Aesthetics of the Global Imagination:
Reflections on World Music in the 1990s’, Public Culture 8 (1996): 468-87; Andrew Goodwin and Joe Gore,
‘World Beat and the Cultural Imperialism Debate’, Socialist Review 20, 3 (July-September 1990): 63-80;
Steven Feld, ‘Notes on “World Beat”’ and ‘From Schizophrenia to Schismogenesis: On the Discourses and
Commodification Practices of “World Music” and “World Beat”’, in Charles Keil and Steven Feld (eds), Music
Grooves: Essays and Dialogues, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1994, pp238-46 and 257-89; Martin
Roberts, ‘“World Music” and the Global Cultural Economy’, Diaspora 2, 2 (1992): 229-42; Jocelyne Guilbault,
‘Interpreting World Music: A Challenge in Theory and Practice’, Popular Music 16, 1 (1997): 31-44; Philip
Hayward, Music at the Borders: Not Drowning, Waving and Their Engagement with Papua New Guinean Music, 1986-
96, Sydney, John Libbey & Co., 1998; Simon Frith, ‘The Discourse of World Music’, in Georgina Born and
David Hesmondhalgh (eds), Western Music and Its Others: Difference, Representation and Appropriation in Music,
Berkeley, Los Angeles, London, University of California Press, 2000, pp305-22; Timothy Brennan, ‘World
Music Does Not Exist’, Discourse 23, 1 (Winter 2001): 44-62; and Jack Bishop, ‘Building International Empires
of Sound: Concentrations of Power and Property in the “Global” Music Market’, Popular Music and Society 28, 4
(October 2005): 443-71.
61. See Steven Feld, ‘A Sweet Lullaby for World Music’, Public Culture 12, 1 (2000): 145-71; and David Bennett,
‘Postmodern Eclecticism and the World Music Debate: The Politics of the Kronos Quartet’, Context: A Journal of
Music Research 29-30 (2005): 5-15.
62. For the concept of ‘structural listening’, see Rose Rosengard Subotnik, Developing Variations: Style
and Ideology in Western Music, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1991, pp277-78; and Andrew
26 New Formations
Dell’Antonio (ed), Beyond Structural Listening? Postmodern Modes of Hearing, Berkeley, CA, University of
California Press, 2004.
63. See Pierre Boulez, ‘Eventuellement . . .’, La Revue musicale 212 (April 1952): 119.
64. See Gilles Deleuze, Difference and Repetition, London, Continuum, 2004, p165.
65. Judy Lochhead and Joseph Auner, Postmodern Music/Postmodern Thought, pp2-3.
66. Steven Connor, ‘Introduction’, Cambridge Companion to Postmodernism, op. cit., p17.