Pretty good collection of previously published articles. Radiohead and Bjork but also interesting classical folks I hadn't previously heard of. ( )

Alex Ross faz muito bem o que se propõe - introduzir artistas musicais de modo que sejamos compelidos a conhecê-los ou revisitá-los. Ele o faz com uma mistura de crônica de encontros, notas sobre a vida e personalidade, menções rápidas ao contexto e situações outras, mais comentários musicais pontuais, vindos de seu trabalho como crítico, geralmente enfatizando pontos de interesse e conexões entre a música de concerto e formas mais pop ou vice versa. Nessas jornadas, tenta mostrar o apelo que a música tem e surgem adjetivos que tentam dar conta do impacto - a música afinal fala aos sentimentos. Nessa jornada, há uma introdução sobre seu projeto de aproximação entre o clássico e o pop e também uma interessante peça investigativa sobre como a chacona passa de dança espanhola animada a um símbolo musical do desastre iminente, da idade média européia ao rock'n'roll setentista. De resto, fala de Dylan, Brahms, Bjork, Verdi, Schubert, Radiohead, entre outros (a ambiguidade da música clássica na china, divas da música operática, espaços para o aprimoramento musical nos EUA). Acompanha um site com exemplos, reforçando o convite ao aumento de repertório. No todo, tudo isso é bom e agradável, mas talvez, pra mim, um pouco a mais. Negativamente, o gosto operático do autor não me é compartilhado, e certamente a música clássica contemporânea que ele divulga me soa açucarada demais, condizente ao nome um pouco oximorônico; por vezes me soa como empregando formas que se diluem em alguma nuance de sofisticação. ( )

I'm a big fan of music, which is hardly unusual, but I'm also a big fan of music criticism, which is a little less common. I've always been fascinated by how difficult it is to translate the mental impressions created by listening to music into words. It takes real talent to avoid either ascending to the impenetrable heights of formal theory analysis (tritones, parallel fifths, the Locrian mode, etc), diverting the aesthetic reactions into an emotional referendum on the songwriter or target audience (extremely common when a reviewer is discussing something from a personally disliked genre or artist), or descending to completely meaningless word salad ("I had never even seen a shooting star before."). Adam Ross manages to avoid those traps quite neatly in this excellent collection of updated essays from his day job as a music critic for The New Yorker, producing a collection of criticism that's just as enjoyable as his other major work, the magisterial The Rest Is Noise. Our shared childhood appreciation for classical music inclines me to rate this book perhaps more highly than someone more unfamiliar with the genre might, since it's dominated by classical music discussion, but since Ross has an open mind for new sounds, an educated ear, an eye for nuance, the gift of description, and most importantly, passion for the music, it should appeal to anyone who's interested in any music to a greater degree than "I just know what I like".

The essays are not neatly divided by date, style, or subject, the profiles running from historical classical composers, to contemporary composers, to conductors, to singers, to performers, to pop artists. If The Rest Is Noise had a flaw, it was that it covered classical music only in the 20th century, reaching backwards only very reluctantly. From that perspective, Ross partially remedies that deficiency by providing some insight on well-known historical titans such as Mozart, Schubert, and Brahms. Classical music fans are prone to lapses into prolixity when discussing their favorite works and Ross is no exception, as his florid closing discussion of the final movement of Brahms' 4th symphony shows, but overall he strikes just the right balance between providing technical insight into what techniques those guys used when creating their masterpieces, and discussing their emotional impact. Something that seems to come up frequently when I talk about classical music with my friends who didn't grow up listening to it is that the music can be very ambiguous - non-initiates know that SOMETHING is happening in the middle of a Beethoven work, but can't really tell what it is or put it into words since the musical vocabulary seems so different than that of contemporary music. Ross is superb not only at describing what a composer is getting at with the various diminuendos and intervals and so forth, but also at connecting those to the reactions felt by the listener.

This same facility is on display when he's discussing more modern figures like Radiohead, Björk, or Bob Dylan. From time to time a pop music critic will complain that most album reviews are entirely uninsightful and hard to distinguish from either press releases or lifestyle criticisms; this sets off predictably indignant responses, but frequently it's inarguably difficult to tell what Rolling Stone or Pitchfork' description of an album is supposed to convey to the reader. Ross is predictably a little lighter on the chords-and-staves lingo when discussing someone like Bob Dylan than with Brahms, yet he's still able to provide more insight into just why Dylan's songs stand out from so much other folk music that's seemingly very similar, or how Björk synthesizes her influences with her own creativity to come up with her music. It's an admirable display of musical ecumenicism that reinforces the unity of sentiment behind the sounds, even if the expression varies in different times and different artistic periods. That impression of worldliness is deepened further when he discusses musical gatherings like the Marlboro Retreat, or the impact of dynamic conductors like Esa-Pekka Salonen, or the vocal talents of singers like Marian Anderson or Lorraine Hunt Lieberson - every part of the music is important, and seeing how the pieces fit together can be extremely enlightening. And, while I probably won't ever get the same sense of wonder out of John Cage's experimental works that I do out of a Mahler symphony, I respect Ross for trying his best to convey something about the man's intentions. At some point, it's possible that the composer has done his job, the critic has done his, and the burden of a failure to connect with the piece ultimately lies with the listener.

At its best, music criticism can be revelatory, casting a formerly unappreciated work in a new light or turning the listener on to entirely new sounds. By those criteria Ross succeeds handily: I found myself mentally revising my opinions many times and adding more and more works to my to-listen list the further I got through the book. Best of all, much like with his previous book he has a listen-along guide on his website so it's possible to hear much of what he talks about rather than having to buy dozens of CDs (though he does provide a buyer's guide as well in an appendix). Highly recommended for classical music fans, and still recommended for those with an open musical mind. ( )

I can't get enough of this dude!!! Tickled to read about the author's experience seeing BLATZ at 924 Gilman. Like "The Rest is Noise": fluent, dexterous, informative, but "Listen to This" is also personal, affecting, and funny, and reading Ross as he writes outside of his comfort zone is as interesting as any of his classical writing. He is able to distill narratives and themes across all genres in a really incredible way that makes me want to listen more/play more/read more. ( )