In an article reeking of inverted snobbery published in today’s New Statesman, Andrew Missingham asks, “Why should it matter that the classics mean nothing to me, or hardly anyone today?” He is talking, by the way, about classical music rather than literature although he may well hold the same views about Dickens, Shakespeare and Hardy. Is Mr. Missingham so out of touch that he failed to register the 1.4 million downloads of Beethoven symphonies from BBC Radio 3’s website earlier this year? And I wonder how the 8 million British listeners who tune in weekly to either Classic FM or Radio 3 feel about being referred to as ‘hardly anyone’?
I like many kinds of music (see my ‘perfectplaylist’ today on the Everly Brothers), because I was not denied exposure to any particular genre. I was fortunate enough to be born into a family where classical music was part of everyday life. Had I not been, the only place I could have discovered it would have been at school. Under Missingham’s regime, I would have missed out because he believes our children should be denied access to more than six centuries of some of mankind’s greatest achievements. Presumably, Missingham’s history lessons would begin in the 1950’s too?
Classical Music should be a fundamental part of the school curriculum, for it is as relevant today as ever. As politicians struggle for solutions, Daniel Barenboim, with his West-East Divan orchestra – which comprises of an equal number of young Arab and Israeli musicians – is proving how great music can unite nations. We should not forget that “music hath charms to soothe the savage breast”.
A now notorious 2002 survey undertaken by Classic FM established that 65% of 6-14 year olds were unable to name a single classical composer and could not differentiate between instruments. This highlighted the neglect of music in many of our schools and was enough of a shock to provoke a response. That response was the government’s much-touted 2004 music manifesto that was full of good intentions, but short on how they would be delivered.
At present Britain is lagging far behind countries such as Korea and Japan where children playing instruments is the norm and classical concerts are packed with young people. Music education is mandatory in many far eastern countries but in British primary and secondary schools the amount of music on offer appears to be totally at the whim of individual head teachers. If a head teacher believes that music is important there will be music lessons. If he doesn’t, there won’t. Is this fair on our children? Unfortunately, music is most likely to be pushed aside in the poorer inner city schools – exactly the places where it could be of most benefit. This has created a misguided belief that classical music, in particular, is a white, middle class and elitist activity only available to those who can afford it. I passionately believe this to be untrue. Music has the power to literally transform people’s lives and it can provide motivation, stimulation and consolation.
The present government’s recognition that music has been given insufficient attention in many schools is welcome, but there is certainly no room for complacency. A recent Ofsted report into the role of Local Education Authority Music Services concentrated on those that are currently most successful. As a result of Ofsted’s ‘positive’ conclusions, it will no longer be monitoring Music Services as they are now officially deemed ‘satisfactory’. Had it inspected counties like Berkshire or Devon – where Music Services have been decimated over the last twenty years – Ofsted would have been forced to return a very different conclusion. The disparity between areas of the country urgently needs to be addressed. In Manchester £13.75 per pupil is allocated for music tuition whereas in nearby Sheffield the figure plunges to a meagre £1.15 per pupil. This kind of discrepancy is hardly fair on our children.
The sad thing about Missingham’s diatribe against classical music is that it distracts attention from the real issue, which is that many of our children are receiving little, if any, music education at all.
The Day I stopped Joking About the Supernatural Daily Telegraph The news that an 81-year-old fiddler from Cape Breton, Canada, has just completed 33,000 compositions “from the other side” has prompted memories of my old friend the late Rosemary Brown. Rosemary often described herself as a “typical housewife with no musical training”. Yet I know of no other housewife who would be so bothered by dead composers insisting she “receive” their music – even while she was pottering around the supermarket – that she would be forced to jot down their latest offerings on the back of her Chopin Liszt. I wrote the above paragraphs in the tranquil gardens of a beautiful country house hotel. No sooner had I put pen to paper than the “incidents” began. Suddenly, there was thunder and lightning. I snatched up my papers, stuffed them into my bag and ran indoors. Moments later there was sunshine, but my musings had been disturbed, so I decided to go for a drive around the lovely countryside. As I was getting into my car, a black kitten appeared, purring and rubbing itself against me. I picked it up, leaving my precious bag by the car door. The bag is a large black leather holdall with a flip-top lid, and it houses my writings, my diary, an electronic address book and much else. I have had it for 20 years and, despite mislaying most other things, had never lost it – until then. I had been strolling around with my new feline friend for little more than a minute before returning to the car to find that the bag had vanished. I looked inside the car, under it, over it and combed through the bushes from where the kitten (which had mysteriously disappeared) had emerged, but the bag was nowhere to be seen. Hotel staff searched, guests were questioned and the loss reported to the police but still no luck. Some days later, a hotel guest telephoned to say that he had discovered my bag on the back seat of his car. But how had it got there? Could it have been “spirited away”? Who knows, but I’ve learned not to be too jocular about the supernatural. Not that I would have been, because I had a lot of time for Rosemary Brown. She possessed considerable gifts for healing – from which I benefited on two occasions – and she was one of the most intuitive people I have ever met. Yet when it came to “her” music I remain sceptical. Why, for example, did it only come from well-known composers? Were there no forgotten masters with something left to say? And why didn’t any of these composers ever evolve their styles? Surely they would not be writing in exactly the same way 100 years later. My father, ever a cynic in such matters, thought Rosemary was definitely receiving something but that “she was getting a cross line”. Perhaps I’d better leave it at that before my Stradivarius turns up in the back of someone’s lorry.
