Schoenberg began Gurrelieder in 1900, but he didn’t hear it until 1913. By then, he’d moved on, and he ostentatiously refused to acknowledge the applause for what (as it turned out) would be the greatest public triumph of his career. Radical artist snubs ignorant masses: it’s a gesture that could stand for much of classical music’s post-1913 history. Even today, you won’t get far into a discussion with contemporary music buffs before someone declares that concertgoers need to be ‘educated’. Which always reminds me of a friend’s account of the night at Reading when Guns N’ Roses decided to play new material instead of the hits that the audience felt they’d paid to hear. I forget the exact details, but it involved Axl Rose being pelted with bottles of urine: an altogether less ambiguous relationship between creator and public.
Meanwhile, audiences have by and large repaid Schoenberg by avoiding him as if he were Ebola — until now, anyway.
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