DOES COMMISSIONED MUSIC STAND A
BETTER CHANCE OF A LONG CONCERT LIFE
THAN MUSIC WRITTEN WITHOUT A COMMISSION?
... ... Arthur Butterworth
Since composers are
frequently commissioned to write music
by various organisations, it is presumed
that they are paid for doing so. It
is probably also to be assumed that
in this ideal situation there would
be more chances of the organisation,
or individual having a natural desire
to get their money’s worth by promoting
as many performances as possible. In
the first place though, composers have
been motivated, even if not actually
inspired, to create music because of
an inner compulsion towards self-expression.
The young musician who first feels the
urge to create his or her music is not
initially concerned about this activity
being a money-making one. If that had
been a prime concern he would, if he
or she had a shrewd and realistic instinct
about every-day economics, have opted
instead to get a job as a paper-boy
every morning, helping on a local market
stall, or in some other rewarding occupation
that it was obvious would be an ongoing
social need. Only some time later, perhaps
after a few small early successes as
a composer, might he begin to wonder
if writing original music could provide
him with a lucrative earning potential.
In this, of course, he would, for the
most part, be absolutely wrong, building
unlikely castles-in-the-air, or viewing
the world through rose-coloured spectacles,
or indulging in any other of the self-deluding
contemplations the mind can lure one
into. Elgar famously remarked about
just such a young man who had said he
wanted to be a composer: "God help
him then?"
Once a degree of success
as an amateur composer begins to be
apparent there sometimes comes - perhaps
as a flattering surprise - an invitation
from someone or an organisation to write
a new piece of music for which he or
she would be paid a fee. There is no
doubt about this: it is flattering since
it assures one that other persons think
his or her music is good enough to warrant
encouragement.
However, the spark
that is so often romantically called
"inspiration" is an elusive
quality that no one has ever really
been able to understand how it ever
comes about. On the face of it there
could be experiences which might appear
to have a bearing, directly or indirectly
on how a creative mind responds to stimuli
of all kinds, both intellectual and
emotional, prosaic or romantic. It may
be too much to claim, but it seems likely
that the world’s finest, enduring and
most appreciated musical creations have
been inspired by some inexplicable experience
known only to the composer, rather than
having been ‘paid’ for, the urge to
compose having been artificially stimulated
by the promise of material reward and,
it has to be admitted, the sense of
prestige that might follow.
Despite this idealised
view of how composers might best find
their ideas, there is no shortage of
examples of composers over the centuries
having been commissioned to provide
music of every possible kind. The court
composers of classical times - Haydn
notably - were in effect almost invariably
commissioned to write music; it was
not a casual or merely occasional occupation,
but rather a full time employment in
court service.
Many later examples
could be thought of: the film composer
on the staff of a production company
for example.
On the face of it this
would seem to imply that music being
formally paid for would be much used
and performed. Like any other commodity
if one pays for it - a washing machine,
a pair of shoes, or whatever else -
one does not buy them merely to put
away in a cupboard unused and ignored.
However, this idealised
state of affairs does not generally
work out in this way, though one might
be forgiven for thinking that it should.
Consider first of all the nature of
a commission; If one commissions a builder
to erect an extension to your house
it is expected that he will follow strict
guide lines as to exactly what you want
from him. You do not leave it to him
to erect whatever his fancy suggests,
otherwise you might end up with a garage
when what you really wanted was an extra
bathroom or conservatory. But in effect
when you commission a creative artist,
a painter or a composer, you are to
all intents and purposes giving him
a free hand to create whatever he chooses.
More often than not of course, a commissioner
will stipulate that he would like a
new string quartet, a song-cycle or
a large-scale symphony; perhaps a portrait
of a specific individual, or the view
of a favourite landscape. In cases like
this the artist has some fairly clear
idea of what he is being asked to create.
It would be unappreciated were he, being
asked for a wind quintet, finally to
say: "oh, I thought you’d like
a 'cello sonata instead, so here it
is?" But in essence, within fairly
specific guidelines he knows what is
required of him. Even being aware of
this just as often brings total disappointment
and disapproval to the commissioner.
In the late 1950s or maybe the early
1960s, a grateful House of Commons commissioned
a portrait of Winston Churchill. Its
unveiling ceremony brought shock-waves
of horror when it was at last revealed.
There was consternation, albeit politely
suppressed, but a few years later, after
Churchill’s death, his widow is said
to have had this very expensively commissioned
painting destroyed.
This not infrequently
happens with new commissions in music.
For the most part the situation is accepted
and maybe a formal "first performance"
is politely promoted. Such happenings
are tolerantly regarded as experiments
that are worth taking a risk with; "Let’s
see what the composer comes up with"
seems to be the philosophy. Sometimes
the results are a memorable success,
such as Stravinsky’s "Symphony
of Psalms" (dedicated by the composer
in the rather incongruous phrase: "To
the Glory of God and in honour of the
Boston Symphony Orchestra" or some
such wording). This is certainly a commissioned
work that has continued to be widely
performed.
It is not invariably
so. Furthermore it has to be mentioned
that not a few commissions awarded by
august funding organisations, having
been generously paid for, have not in
the end resulted in any performance
at all! It is as if to say; "we
provide the monetary stimulus, but it
is up to the composer to find a performance
himself".
What about ‘pure’ inspiration
then? The music that a composer feels
just has to be written, not on account
of filthy lucre, but because there is
an inner compulsion to express something
that he yearns to share with others?
Does this stand a better or lesser chance
of staying in the repertoire than a
work that is artificially stimulated?
There is no way of
predicting how a musical work, once
having been performed, will fare in
the future. Sir Thomas Beecham, that
great British conductor of shrewd and
at times caustic wit, once remarked
that the only chance a new British work
might have of being heard more than
once, was for it to have its first performance
take place in the Royal Albert Hall,
where the infamous echo would ensure
it being heard at least twice!
Unhappily there has
always remained a grain of truth in
this remark. In the days before broadcasting
performances did depend on an actual
live concert being promoted. Recordings,
so crude at the time, could hardly be
taken seriously, and only the most familiar
music - the classics, operatic excerpts
and overtly popular music - managed
to get on old-fashioned discs. "New"
music of any serious pretension hardly
got a look in. Similarly newer music
rarely achieved more than a first or
second live performance unless it managed
to get its message over to a generally
suspicious, doubting and unadventurous
audience at the very first performance.
A damning review of a first performance
could kill it immediately.
On balance it might
be that there is no real difference
whether a new and therefore totally
unknown work has been the result of
pure, innocent inspiration or whether
it has been mollycoddled into existence
by having been championed by an influential
promoting body. Some popular music has
been artificially boosted by shrewd
marketing, but this has not generally
been the case with ‘serious’ music.
Whether it enjoys a long concert life
does not in the end, depend at all on
whether it has been generously commissioned
or has had to struggle into public recognition
as best it can. The only thing that
matters is whether it comes to be regarded
as music that appeals or not.
Arthur Butterworth
