One of the pleasures of sitting on the aisle for a living is the opportunity to encounter a good deal of music that bears little or no relationship to works that have become staples of the repertoire. The critic who tires of Mozart, Beethoven, and friends, of course, threatens to follow the jaded brick road and lose all sense of musical perspective and context. I recall performances of Brahms symphonies, Le Sacre du Printemps, and the Schubert C-major quintet that took me to the edge of ecstacy. Yet we all need variety in our ears, as in our taste buds. For me, variety often comes from music that departs from the traditional or hackneyed, music that ventures into territory that has been unexplored, or at least unexhausted. Were most listeners so disposed, the field of new music would be embraced with infinitely more enthusiasm (and support) than it can claim in the waning years of the millennium.

I don’t believe this to be cause for retreat. If anything, the general public’s apathy for the new in serious music should be viewed as a challenge to composers, performers, presenters, and yes, critics who want to see the field thrive and sprout intriguing, provocative, invigorating, beautiful (not a dirty word), and durable goods. Nothing gets a critic’s juices flowing more than a concertgoer who reveals a musical tolerance quotient close to nil, who can’t fathom a tone cluster or an extended narrative that refuses to land in a tonal center. Allow me to cite an example. Moments after a Cleveland Orchestra performance last season of Alexander Goehr’s piano concerto featuring Peter Serkin, a listener confronted me with a centuries’ old question. “Didn’t you just hate it?” she blurted, desperately seeking a sympathetic ear. I’m sure she was disheartened when I couldn’t confirm her response, though she gave no hint of impending violence. How fortuitous for me! My nose remains intact. And the meeting provided fodder for a Sunday column, in which I stressed the need to be open to the adventurous, complex, whimsical, and frequently unsettling nature of much new music. This is music that reflects the crazy, chaotic, and ineffably lovely world we live in. It is music that might not be absorbed on first hearing but that piques the curiosity so that a second hearing is desired. With the best music, familiarity breeds admiration and love.

Now, a clarification. A critic isn’t paid to do public relations for contemporary music — or any music, for that matter. It is the critic’s job to listen closely, assess the work and the performance, write in a way the professional will appreciate and the layperson will understand (though this — the layperson’s understanding — often doesn’t happen), and be as direct, accurate, and passionate as the experience demands. We all come upon music we believe reprehensible, just as we hear works we find instantly enchanting. The difference between the critic and the rest of humankind is that the critic stands on a soapbox and proclaims views for all to hear — views, it is hoped, backed by knowledge, experience, responsibility, and sensitivity. These views principally aim to serve those readers who want to enter into the discussion or who are interested in learning something about a subject they believe is mired in mystery.

Why mystery? Partly because many people regard the language of music as less tangible and more abstract than the languages of theater, dance, film, or the visual arts. Those of us who are smitten with music find this abstractness magnetic and endlessly fascinating, as a cavalcade of evolving and blossoming sonic ideas. Savoring these, however, requires concentration and patience, which aren’t exactly in abundant supply in modern society. Another obstacle to the advancement of serious music is the obvious and woeful decline of music education in American primary and secondary schools, which has further distanced audiences from the concert music of their time. Alienation from contemporary music has occurred in many eras, but the prevalence of new technologies, popular culture, and rampant commercialism in the late 20th century has worked against the notions of active listening and participation in cultural events outside the home.

This means that promoting new music requires greater effort, imagination, and guts than ever on the part of those who create it and those who attempt to place it in the public’s ear. Does this include critics? Yes and no. Critics would be in a shameful and unethical position if pushing the music took precedence over judging it. Even so, through the vital act of paying attention to the music, the critic signals that new music deserves to be considered — at least once. Then, by expanding on the trends, styles, and sundry experimental or distinctive features of the music, the observant critic begins to point out salient characteristics that might be of lasting interest to members of the audience. All right, all right — I hear the skeptics loud and clear. Rarely does one obtain a fair, balanced, and precise evaluation in the press. But it’s not impossible.

Some Modest Proposals

Where to begin? Critics need help (no jokes, please!) from composers, as well as the artists and impresarios who bring their music to life. First of all, we would urge composers to make contact, in the myriad meanings of that phrase. This might seem a contradiction, but it isn’t. Composers immerse themselves in their art because they need to express themselves, expand on past models, engage in radical variations on a theme, or diverge completely. Yet while composers work in isolation as a matter of necessity, they have a common goal, unless they’re off their rocker, aurally narcissistic, or independently wealthy: they want to communicate. Just how well they communicate musically depends in part on how savvy they are about communicating with the world in general.

Here’s where composers and new-music ensembles need to make headway. They must stop being content to exist on the margins of society, as if they can function in a vacuum and still expect the masses to take notice. They must realize that Prince Esterhazy & Co. are extinct and that the same may soon be true of the U.S. government’s support for the arts. The point is not to cash in, but for artists to be true to their art as they reach out to the small percentage of listeners who are interested in what they do. Such listeners are around, and they’re devoted.

Is it too much to suggest that an important step toward connecting with the world would be for composers to aim their quill pens, electronic keyboards, and computer mice at music that goes beyond technical dexterity, cleverness, formula, and pastiche? Whatever happened to emotional involvement and even remotely graspable syntax? The days of Darmstadt and listeners-be-damned are behind us — or should be. The 1950s, ‘60s, and ‘70s produced some good things and an awful lot of gray, thorny, unnourishing, and depressing music. (And not depressing in the Mahlerian sense, which is exhilarating, in its eloquent way.) No one would presume to ask composers to compromise. But even established composers who caressed the inaccessible over the last few decades are now adopting harmonic vocabularies that resonate with color and expressive palettes that penetrate the soul. Some of what they’re doing is neo-romantic. Some of it is neo-classical. Some of it is neo-minimalist. Some of it is neo-nothing, with a personality very much its own.

So what does a critic wish for from composers and new-music groups? The same as a concertgoer who hungers for something to supplement and complement history’s masters. From composers, we ask that scores engage the senses, stimulate thought, and force us to sit up, however subtle or grandiose the ideas may be. We want to hear works that employ acoustical and electronic instruments, singers, dancers, actors, whatever, but that draw attention to substance and thematic invention, rather than to the equipment. And, on a practical note, we would implore ensembles to provide materials about concerts, programs, and developments well in advance, so we can help the public become better informed and more aware of the possibilities.

Mostly, audiences and critics hope that those who explore the language of music continue to do so with optimism, even though intrepid artists may wonder at times if anyone is listening. A meeting of new-music ensemble directors and advocates last June in Pittsburgh was an encouraging sign that these people know something isn’t right, that they must share information and repertoire, get to know audiences more intimately, and forge alliances so that they feel part of an artistic continuum.

The bottom line, as always, is the product: music that is interesting, ennobling, piquant, and seductive; music that is performed on the highest level, so that its essential qualities begin to emerge. There will always be a mountain of forgettable music looming above the molehill of scores that survive and enter (or at least approach) the mainstream. But composers have to keep trying to find the right notes. Just as old music feeds the present, new music elucidates the past as it points — nervously, hopefully — to the future. ·

Donald Rosenberg is principal classical music critic of The Plain Dealer (Cleveland). He holds degrees in French horn performance from the Mannes College of Music and Yale School of Music, and has participated in the Aspen and Marlboro music festivals.