Hearing music is easy, listening is much more difficult. It is a rare occasion for us to give complete attention to the sounds which are unfolding around us. Music is most often present in the background, the accompaniment to a different activity. Sometimes, however, this is just not enough. I do not want to rain on people’s good fun, but music is an art and thus demands our respect.

Increasingly, however, musical taste is an excuse for prejudice, a means of dismissing whole centuries, genres, and styles of music. Contemporary art music, in particular, suffers from such prejudice. ‘All this modern rubbish’, ‘Schoenberg and that lot’ and ‘horrible noise’ are all wildly inaccurate accounts of contemporary ‘classical’ music, which speak of a widespread misunderstanding.

Notably, the music of Arnold Schoenberg, a composer who abandoned major and minor scales in favour of his own system, serialism, is nearing its centenary and, therefore, can no longer be considered modern music. The face of composition has changed radically in this time. There are whole new concerns, in terms of both style and subject matter, which are evident in the ever-evolving, contemporary compositional climate. This is not to say that Schoenberg can no longer appeal to this generation; on the contrary there is much we can still gain from him, just as there is still much to be gained from, for example, Bach, Mozart and Beethoven. What we must understand is that each generation has its own music; disengagement with the music of our own time means missing out on a life-enriching source of musical experience.

Another criticism of contemporary music is that it can be considered to be both ‘ugly and unnatural’. However, where this occurs, this is generally the intention of the composer. Brutal and violent sounds are a well-established part of our musical language and, indeed, our daily existence. It is often argued that art should reflect life, so why should the injustices, anger and aggression of our world be off-limits? True art music does not have to be recreation; recreation does not have to be pleasing sonorities strung together to gratify us. Music can often be a challenge to the listener, never mind the performer.

Furthermore, it is important to realise that what is considered ‘ugly’ in music has changed dramatically over the course of history. A simple example, such as Mozart’s ‘Dissonance’ Quartet K465, shows that music considered highly dissonant at the time of composition is now pleasant to our ears. It is the place of modern music to challenge and broaden our spectrum of sound colour. What critics do not realise is that this does not necessarily entail a wholesale abandonment of ‘beautiful’ music. On the contrary, it is expanding what we see as beauty.

There is an appetite amongst students for music that is unusual, challenging and original. Some obvious examples are Pink Floyd’s use of everyday sounds at the beginning of ‘Money’ from Dark Side of the Moon, or the general disregard for traditional song structures shown by many prog-rockers. These attempts are born out of a constant wish to push boundaries within their genre. The same is true of contemporary music, merely resulting in more extreme results because of the nature of the genre. Nothing is taken for granted, neither traditional instrumentation, tonality, harmony, notation, or rhythm.

Two somewhat extreme, and now rather dated, examples of pieces that dispense with traditional modes of music-making are John Cage’s 4’33 and György Ligeti’s rather ironically named Poème Symphonique for 100 Metronomes. The first consists of the performer(s) stepping on to the stage and sitting in silence for as long as they see fit. The second is scored for metronomes set to different tempos, started simultaneously until they all stop. So what is being expressed here?

What at first seems rather bizarre can in fact turn out to be rather interesting. Cage famously raises questions concerning the nature of music, and the impossibility of silence. While we watch the performer, our ears are filled with the sounds of the concert hall, and the people that surround us; sounds we would otherwise ignore. If you enjoy the piece, then you are enjoying something that necessarily surrounds us.

My own, purely personal take on the Ligeti is that it is quite good fun. After a short time of disordered clattering, certain logic begins to be revealed. Ever-changing complex rhythms emerge from the texture, becoming clearer as fewer metronomes continue their time-keeping.

Both these pieces are often criticised as vacuous attempts to be controversial, gimmicks that are not worth anyone’s attention. Often these views are expressed by people with strong preconceived views of what music should be. Allowing this view to be challenged is key to appreciating some of the more experimental pieces of contemporary music. We must meet each piece on its own terms to stand any chance of enjoying it.
For those who prefer a more traditional ensemble, there are many pieces that still speak with a strong contemporary voice. The works of James Macmillan, Luciano Berio, Harrison Birtwistle, Tōru Takemitsu and Magnus Lindberg are just a few examples.

The ‘anything is possible’ attitude is mind-bending, but also exciting. I urge all those people who enjoy progressive rock, free jazz, and electronic dance music to reconsider their thoughts on art music. All that is required is an open mind, not an in-depth knowledge of compositional processes. I have heard many say that they do not know enough about technicalities to understand today’s music, but this puts the emphasis in the wrong place. The most important aspect of any music is how it sounds, something accessible to anyone who can hear it. Musical understanding is obtainable by musician and non-musician alike.

For those interested in new musical experiences, the University contemporary music ensemble, Chimera, puts on two concerts at the end of each term. I would thoroughly recommend these events. Go and find out what a diverse and exciting field contemporary music really is.