I do not believe I can say enough to extol the virtue of this book. I am finishing my Music Composition degree and Baker's has been an indespensible tool for my research. Concise and informative, this book even includes the opinions of the musical scholars. To say that this is just a dictionary would be like saying that the sun is dull.
Baker's Biographical Dictionary of Musicians could be used like a "Who's Who" if the musical world. While the Harvard Dictionary of Music is the reigning authority, written differently from Bakers, which is easier to follow.
Specifically, I wanted information on J.S. Bach. Baker's has a particularly well-detailed, extensive section on Bach: everything I needed.
I strongly recommend this book for anyone who wants to understand the finer facts of music history.

While I don't actually own this book, I have used it a great deal for a college music class. The definitions are helpful, well-written, and present helpful, relevant information in a concise form. The biographies are good for a quick reference, but they also lead to further, more complex research questions.

I might well have called this "While I Slept" (with apologies to Art Buchwald). For, despite the facts that [a] Nicolas Slonimsky lived for more than 101 years (from 27 April 1894 to 25 December 1995), [b] because of this longevity, my life overlapped his by some 55 years, and [c] Slonimsky played a major role in a good part of the music I love (that of Charles Ives), he is a quite "new" discovery for me.

Born a Jew in St. Petersburg but baptized in the Orthodox church, Slonimsky was just one of many overachievers in his family. (As one example, his maternal aunt, Isabelle Vengerova, who - like him - was to emigrate to the United States, taught piano not only to Slonimsky but to Dmitri Tiomkin, the famous Hollywood composer, while both were still in Russia, and then to the likes of Samuel Barber, Leonard Bernstein, Aaron Copland, Lukas Foss and Gary Graffman, when she lived in New York and served for many years on the faculty of the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia.)

The 1917 Revolution led to Slonimsky's 1918 emigration from the Soviet Union, but not before he became known to a number of St. Petersburg composers and musicians of fame, not the least of whom was Alexander Glazunov, the director of the music conservatory there. His migratoy path while wending his way eventually to the U.S. is a story all in itself, with "pit stops" in Kiev, Karkhov, Yalta, Constantinople, Sofia, and, eventually, Paris, where he met Koussevitsky, Stravinsky and Prokofiev, assisting all three of them in various (and humorous) ways.

Arriving first in the U.S. at Rochester (NY), where he had been invited to coach the newly-instituted American Opera Company at the Eastman School of Music, Slonimsky had his initial conducting experiences (not a total success, but one which nonetheless demonstrated that he had a unique ability to "decouple" his two arms, permitting him to conduct in two different meters at the same time [something that would stand him in good stead when he later conducted the music of Ives]). From there, he went to Boston, as Koussevitsky's assistant (also not without its humor). It was in Boston that he met his wife-to-be, Dorothy Adlow (another Russian Jewish immigrant who became famous in her own right as the only Jewish editor on the staff of the Christian Science Monitor), and formed his own small chamber orchestra - made up largely of musicians from the Boston Symphony - for the performance of "new, modern" music. It was here, in 1928, that he first met Henry Cowell, which was to factor importantly in his early championing of Charles Ives and his music.

Skipping (temporarily) the Ives - Slonimsky connection, in 1933 Slonimsky was invited to be the conductor of the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, an assignment that ended in disaster when he programmed too much modern music for the tastes of the audience, not the least of which was Edgar Varèse's "Ionisation."

Later in life - in fact, largely for the balance of what was to turn out to be an exceedingly long and rich life - Slonimsky turned his attention and activities toward writing on musical matters, mostly as a musical biographer and lexicographer for various music encyclopedias such as Theodore Baker's "Biographical Dictionary of Musicians." His bulldog determination for "accuracy at whatever cost" knew no bounds, even going so far as to check historical newspaper accounts of the weather on the date of Mozart's funeral, to put the lie to claims that friends did not attend Mozart's funeral because of snow: the snow, not the funeral, was in fact canceled.

Among Slonimsky's other writings were treatises on music theory, including some rather abstruse writings on the theory of harmony that represented true inventions on his part. In one of the strangest juxtapositions - and truly one of the most hilarious chapters of the book - Slonimsky crossed paths, in 1981, with none other than Frank Zappa, who took a personal interest in Slonimsky's theories and actually applied portions of them to his compositions.

But it was the Ives connection which brought my attention to Slonimsky in the first place, on account of the anecdotes that Jan Swafford, in his "Charles Ives: A Life With Music," related regarding Slonimsky's early championing of Ives's music, decades before others (incuding Bernstein) did. In what for me is the "gravitational center" of the book, a chapter entitled "Three Places in New England," Slonimsky, with the greatest of warmth and a wealth of detail, describes his initial meeting of Ives (through the auspices of Cowell) and his concertizing in both the U.S. and Europe, including Ives works on the programs. Certainly a highlight largely lost to history was Slonimsky conducting the Berlin Philharmonic, on 5 March 1932, in a program of works by Ives, Ruggles and Varèse, to both critical and popular acclaim, as well as enthusiastic acceptance by the Berlin orchestra musicians for whom this music would have been impossibly difficult had it not been for Slonimsky's conducting expertise. Ives and Slonimsky were to remain lifelong friends, and Ives, despite his infirmaties later in life, and often with the greatest of physical difficulties, would correspond with Slonimsky. One can only wish that some recording or another of a Slonimsky performance of an Ives work would have survived, but apparently - and regrettably - this is an idle wish.

There is a sequel - of sorts - to this autobiography, called (with Slonimksy's tongue placed firmly in his cheek) "The First Hundred Years." Not an update that adds another five years to "Perfect Pitch," this one is a compendium of excerpts of some of his best writings (including excerpts from "Perfect Pitch"). There is no better way to gauge the length, breadth and depth of Slonimsky's interests and expertise on matters musical than this "sequel." But do read "Perfect Pitch" first. If you can stop laughing long enough to complete it.

Intelligent and witty. The compelling life story of a wonderfully creative and open-minded pianist/conductor, mathematician and linguist. A great read even for people who are neither mathematicians nor into 20th century composers (like me).

There is no other dictionary of music equal to this one in range, depth, style, and presentation. It presumes music as a whole, not only in its classical cloak. It is a pleasure to read. Individual entries are clear and focused, without the infuriating omissions one has found in various editions of the Oxford or Harvard. Specific topics which in the editors' opinions require greater analysis are given their due in thoroughly inteligent boxed articles, with different background color. To give an idea of the work's scope, here are some samples of regular entries: etiology, major-minor syndrome, Arab music, "A Bicycle Built for Two", Marni Nixon, Picardy third, schnarre, kolo, "Red" Foley, Fluxus, Eduard Steuermann, mescolanza, etc. Of course, all the usually expected items are present, not in dry lexicographic prose but vibrantly and wittily written. Boxed articles include such topics as Music Therapy, Arnold Schoenberg, socialist realism, interval, longevity, Edward MacDowell, Arturo Toscanini, rock, Henry Cowell, César Franck, graphic notation, jazz,etc. The entry on Maria Callas ends by quoting a commentator who said: "If an orgasm could sing, it would sound like Maria Callas." Slonimsky concludes "Pleanostically speaking, she was an incarnation of carnality." The book is printed on sturdy, beautiful paper, standard type, and has numerous photographs throughout, including one of Carmen Miranda. The binding is meant to last and be passed on.

This is a work to cherish. I cannot imagine a music lover who would not treasure it. This edition was edited after Slonimsky's death. There may not be another version coming. I encourage anyone with a serious interest in Music to get it before it goes out of print. Music is here, presented with depth and elegance, in all her infinite variety.

For those of us who can't afford the complete Baker'sBiographical Dictionary of Musicians, the Concise version is still agreat buy We have owned the 8th ed. for some years and use it very frequently. This dictionary has good clear information on not just the well known composers and performers, but many minor composers and performers as well. Like the complete ed., this dictionary includes jazz musicians. One of the best features of this book is that it not only has the biographical article, but has the composer's works divided up into the various types of composition, such as piano music, giving both titles and dates of compositon. A great reference tool, particularly for anyone wanting to find more pieces by a favorite composer, or a date for a piece already known. .

Nicolas Slonimsky (b. St. Peterburg, Russia in 1894 - d. Christmas Day 1995 in Los Angeles at the exceptional age of 101 years, 9 months, 28 days) was an institution. He labeled himself a 'musical lexicographer,' having written several indispensable musical reference works such as 'Baker's Biographical Dictionary of Musicians,' and 'The Lexicon of Musical Invective' (containing hilarious entries from reviews and other sources), as well as the esoteric and encyclopedic, 'Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns.' He also wrote one of the most amusing musical autobiographies around, 'Perfect Pitch.' But before he became a scholar/writer he was a pianist, conductor, composer, and champion of modern music. For instance, he was the first person to conduct an orchestral work of Charles Ives in Europe, and in an appendix of this gargantuan book (1260 pages) he prints twenty pages of letters he received from Ives. Because he lived so long he knew just about everybody in the field of twentieth-century music. (I even met him once when he was approaching his 100th birthday.)

The primary content of the book is a day by day account of musical events throughout the Western world from January 1, 1900 up to the death of Ernst Krenek in 1991. This volume, its Fifth Edition, contains all the material of the previous editions (with corrections and additions) plus 1500 additional entries for the period after the Fourth Edition.

For a reasonably well-informed music-lover there is rarely a page in this book without information about events in music history that are familiar, as well as others that are interesting but otherwise unknown. To illustrate this I opened the book literally at random to pages 150-151 and found entries, among others, on the première of Zandonai's 'Francesca da Rimini'; a squib about the fifteen-year-old Henry Cowell demonstrating 'tone clusters' to the San Francisco Music Club; the première of 'Hashish,' a tone-poem by Sergei Liapunov; the première of George Butterworth's 'The Banks of Green Willow'; the première of Vaughan Williams's now-beloved 'London Symphony'; the première of Franz Schmidt's opera 'Notre Dame'; the première of Albéric Magnard's magnum opus, his Fourth Symphony; the first performance as orchestral piece (as opposed to accompaniment of a ballet) of Stravinsky's 'Sacre de printemps,' Pierre Monteux conducting. All these took place in February-April 1914. You get the idea.

Also included is a section of musical 'documents' such as the Ives letters mentioned, as well as things like the Futurist manifesto, a talk by Alban Berg entitled 'What is Atonality?,' letters to Slonimsky from luminaries such as Arnold Schoenberg, George Bernard Shaw, Anton von Webern and Edgard Varèse. There are documents from Soviet Russia illuminating the control the government placed on composers and some of their responses.

Also included is a valuable section of definitions of musical and allied terms applicable to the modern era with entries from abecedarianism (a gentle term to describe simplistic music - oh, what he has to say about what we would now call minimalism!) to Zen (and its influence on the avant-garde). He also defines some of his own neologisms; for instance, he tends to refer to twentieth-century music as 'vigesimosecular.' One can imagine him smiling at his mock-pompous use of such words.

Slonimsky's writing style is idiosyncratic. He is frequently puckish, sometimes acerbic, always superdensely, polysyllabically multifactual; I counted 300 words in one exuberant Russian-doll-like sentence. He created an enormous number of musical neologisms to describe musical processes and styles, some of which have entered the technical vocabulary; for instance, 'pandiatonicism' to describe the process by which 'all seven degrees of the diatonic scale are used freely in democratic equality.' He takes sly pokes at music he does not admire but is never mean-spirited. He gives technical analyses of major works (e.g., his extensive exegeses of the Mahler symphonies which were premièred in the 20th century.) He has some inexplicable hobby-horses. For instance, he gives the precise age at death of important musicians as I've done in my opening sentence. He raves about composers that few others seem to care for, e.g., the Swiss Hans Huber. He completely omits some composers that are now well-thought-of, e.g. Sweden's Wilhelm Stenhammar. He tends to go on at length about uses of scales and melodic patterns, not surprising considering his expertise in that area. But overall he is fair-minded and although not anywhere near complete - that would be impossible - the encyclopedic nature of the work requires fervent admiration. There are a few typos along the way - unavoidable - and an occasional error of fact, although it is clear that he makes every effort to correct them (there are frequent retractions of errors made in earlier editions); this even extends to poring over governmental and church birth and death records and newspaper reviews of première performances.

For someone like me who often writes reviews of recordings of obscure twentieth-century works, this volume is indispensable. For others who are generally interested in the musical history of the previous century it would be valuable if not absolutely necessary. Every library worthy of the name ought to have a copy. Slonimsky was one of our cultural treasures and thank goodness his words will live on.

Review by Scott Morrison

I might well have called this "While I Slept" (with apologies to Art Buchwald). For, despite the facts that [a] Nicolas Slonimsky lived for more than 101 years (from 27 April 1894 to 25 December 1995), [b] because of this longevity, my life overlapped his by some 55 years, and [c] Slonimsky played a major role in a good part of the music I love (that of Charles Ives), he is a quite "new" discovery for me.

Born a Jew in St. Petersburg but baptized in the Orthodox church, Slonimsky was just one of many overachievers in his family. (As one example, his maternal aunt, Isabelle Vengerova, who - like him - was to emigrate to the United States, taught piano not only to Slonimsky but to Dmitri Tiomkin, the famous Hollywood composer, while both were still in Russia, and then to the likes of Samuel Barber, Leonard Bernstein, Aaron Copland, Lukas Foss and Gary Graffman, when she lived in New York and served for many years on the faculty of the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia.)

The 1917 Revolution led to Slonimsky's 1918 emigration from the Soviet Union, but not before he became known to a number of St. Petersburg composers and musicians of fame, not the least of whom was Alexander Glazunov, the director of the music conservatory there. His migratoy path while wending his way eventually to the U.S. is a story all in itself, with "pit stops" in Kiev, Karkhov, Yalta, Constantinople, Sofia, and, eventually, Paris, where he met Koussevitsky, Stravinsky and Prokofiev, assisting all three of them in various (and humorous) ways.

Arriving first in the U.S. at Rochester (NY), where he had been invited to coach the newly-instituted American Opera Company at the Eastman School of Music, Slonimsky had his initial conducting experiences (not a total success, but one which nonetheless demonstrated that he had a unique ability to "decouple" his two arms, permitting him to conduct in two different meters at the same time [something that would stand him in good stead when he later conducted the music of Ives]). From there, he went to Boston, as Koussevitsky's assistant (also not without its humor). It was in Boston that he met his wife-to-be, Dorothy Adlow (another Russian Jewish immigrant who became famous in her own right as the only Jewish editor on the staff of the Christian Science Monitor), and formed his own small chamber orchestra - made up largely of musicians from the Boston Symphony - for the performance of "new, modern" music. It was here, in 1928, that he first met Henry Cowell, which was to factor importantly in his early championing of Charles Ives and his music.

Skipping (temporarily) the Ives - Slonimsky connection, in 1933 Slonimsky was invited to be the conductor of the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, an assignment that ended in disaster when he programmed too much modern music for the tastes of the audience, not the least of which was Edgar Varèse's "Ionisation."

Later in life - in fact, largely for the balance of what was to turn out to be an exceedingly long and rich life - Slonimsky turned his attention and activities toward writing on musical matters, mostly as a musical biographer and lexicographer for various music encyclopedias such as Theodore Baker's "Biographical Dictionary of Musicians." His bulldog determination for "accuracy at whatever cost" knew no bounds, even going so far as to check historical newspaper accounts of the weather on the date of Mozart's funeral, to put the lie to claims that friends did not attend Mozart's funeral because of snow: the snow, not the funeral, was in fact canceled.

Among Slonimsky's other writings were treatises on music theory, including some rather abstruse writings on the theory of harmony that represented true inventions on his part. In one of the strangest juxtapositions - and truly one of the most hilarious chapters of the book - Slonimsky crossed paths, in 1981, with none other than Frank Zappa, who took a personal interest in Slonimsky's theories and actually applied portions of them to his compositions.

But it was the Ives connection which brought my attention to Slonimsky in the first place, on account of the anecdotes that Jan Swafford, in his "Charles Ives: A Life With Music," related regarding Slonimsky's early championing of Ives's music, decades before others (incuding Bernstein) did. In what for me is the "gravitational center" of the book, a chapter entitled "Three Places in New England," Slonimsky, with the greatest of warmth and a wealth of detail, describes his initial meeting of Ives (through the auspices of Cowell) and his concertizing in both the U.S. and Europe, including Ives works on the programs. Certainly a highlight largely lost to history was Slonimsky conducting the Berlin Philharmonic, on 5 March 1932, in a program of works by Ives, Ruggles and Varèse, to both critical and popular acclaim, as well as enthusiastic acceptance by the Berlin orchestra musicians for whom this music would have been impossibly difficult had it not been for Slonimsky's conducting expertise. Ives and Slonimsky were to remain lifelong friends, and Ives, despite his infirmaties later in life, and often with the greatest of physical difficulties, would correspond with Slonimsky. One can only wish that some recording or another of a Slonimsky performance of an Ives work would have survived, but apparently - and regrettably - this is an idle wish.

There is a sequel - of sorts - to this autobiography, called (with Slonimksy's tongue placed firmly in his cheek) "The First Hundred Years." Not an update that adds another five years to "Perfect Pitch," this one is a compendium of excerpts of some of his best writings (including excerpts from "Perfect Pitch"). There is no better way to gauge the length, breadth and depth of Slonimsky's interests and expertise on matters musical than this "sequel." But do read "Perfect Pitch" first. If you can stop laughing long enough to complete it.

In the course of my life I have spent many hours pouring over volume after volume of musical history. I am a professional clarinetist. Most things written by musicologists are incredibly boring. It's nothing personal against them, it just simply is. I will never forget the time I sat in the Deering Library in Northwestern University and read the introduction to Baker's Biographical Dictionary of Musicians. I had been in the library for the better part of the day, and decided to find out what Mr. Slonimsky had to say. I was immeadtley engrossed with the writing. Slonimsky was not only fluent and informative. He was downright funny. I was amazed to be reading a book that weighed more than most small dogs, and still find it funny. I came to realize that Slonimsky was no ordinary musicologist. He was an incredibly intresting man. He was not only a historian, but a composer. He compiled an enormous volume of scales and patterns whick most jazz players use frequently. At the age of 85, his best friend was Frank Zappa. He is the only musicologist I have ever known that appeared on the Carson Show. And, he is also the most accurate historian I have ever read. Slonimsky goes to great length to verify his sources. I would be willing to belive just about anything published under his pen. This Book of Musical Anectdotes is no exception. It is full of strange, and true tales of the most famous of musicians. All great musicians are genuises, and most of them are very strange. Mr. Slonimsky captures the true essence of the composers, and lets us see what else they did besides compose glorious music. A truly excellent, witty book.

An engagingly idiosyncratic work, worthwhile at least for the improbable and imaginatively named chords appended to its end. But beware: its author does not list all 351 subsets of the chromatic scale, nor does he eschew redundant transpostional equivalencies, nor does he ever suggest how we might apply his scales. A much more useful work of this kind (just as fascinating in its way) is Jeff Burns's PENTATONIC SCALES FOR THE JAZZ-ROCK KEYBOARDIST.

Also recommended: PENTATONIC SCALES FOR THE JAZZ-ROCK KEYBOARDIST by Jeff Burns.

The unassuming cover gives no indication of the "musical" wealth within its stark white pages of black notes on staves. And there is only minimal explanation in purely music terms of the major components of its contents. But for the serious musician, this challenging and comprehensive book of over 1300 scales and melodic patterns will definitely expand your musical vocabulary, no matter what instrument or musical style you play. All the examples are written in standard notation for "C" instruments in both treble and bass clefs (like piano, guitar, bass). Application for "non-C" instruments needs on-the-spot transposition but that shouldn't present too much of an inconvenience. If you're into songwriting, composing or arranging orignal music, this book is a cavernous "idea barrel" that will serve you well when you need some extra inspiration or as a reference to write out that "idea" accurately in the correct harmonic fashion. If you're a performer striving to shape your own musical expression, this book will be a wonderful tool in your hand. According to legend, John Coltrane used Nichols Slonimsky's THESARUS OF SCALES AND MELODIC PATTERNS to practice from during the period that "Kind of Blue" was recorded.(see page 71 of "KIND OF BLUE-The Making Of the Miles Davis Masterpiece" by Ashley Kahn) One note of caution, it offers no suggestion for technical proficiency or fingering in how to play these scales and patterns, you will have to figure that out by yourself. But that will allow you the maximum joy of self-discovery as you portage your way through these pages to your ultimate musicial destination.

Written primarily for composers of modern (classical) music, the Thesaurus was a relatively obscure text offering a glimpse of a controversial and rarely explored world beyond conventional scales and Western Tonality - - The book began to gain popularity in the Jazz world when it was found that John Coltrane had been dabling in it and suddenly it rose from obscurity. - - If you're thinking of purchasing this book as sort of a "woodshedder's bible" be forewarned... unless you understand the rocket science of chord/scale relationships (etc. etc.) and the concepts behind the scales, you'll probably be wasting your time. At minimum to appreciate this book you need to know more about the scales you already use than that the reason you can play them over a certain change is that Aebersold Volume 6 told you you could. On the other hand, if you can play tunes, changes, and understand how and why tones are chosen and selected, this book may offer some powerful stuff. The important thing to realize is that the material in the book is HIGHLY applicable, however, the book will not tell you how to apply it. Your insight and understanding will be required. So in conclusion, do not be fooled... if you're looking for a "cool" pattern book, or to learn how to improvise in general, or even want to learn how to sound like Trane, this is definitely NOT the book for you. If on the other hand you're already an advanced improviser, can listen to a solo and understand the "concepts" and the process of how tones are selected... and want to experiment with and development further ideas get this book. Check out Amadea's Jazz Improv : How To Play It & How to Teach it for an interesting approach on developing lines... or an interesting book called "Tons of Runs" if you're looking for something more along the lines of interesting patterns to play.

Slonimsky gave us in 1953 a collection of captious criticism upon innocent classical music compositions that eventually were greatly revered despite that these first detractors "erroneously" panned them. But the thesis of the critical work, the author's assertion in the opening essay, that the common prejudice of critics' "non-acceptance of the unfamiliar" is at the heart of the problem, falls short of explaining much of the matter.

We are led, in typical academic Modernist, hyperbole fashion, to believe that this selection of historical critique is a thorough examination of erroneous musical invective. The essays, picked mostly from journalistic (formal) music criticism from 1800-1950, seem to mutually agree that new musical ideas are bad and established music is good and therefore threatened by innovation.

The problem is obvious. The essays have been selected to support a general defensive attitude, commonly found during the twentieth century among music academia. The unspoken fact is this: throughout the twentieth century, the public's inability to welcome atonal music had been attacked by proponents of this publicly disliked, though educationally cherished, style.

This was a common sentiment among music academia and other vanguards of artistic music during the time of this writing. It still is. They, music academics who support innovation and originality above all else, are the people who like this book. The rest of us should be wary of their pretentious mudslinging, especially in works such as this that assert a generalized notion that all, or most, music criticism is too close-minded to accept anything new and unfamiliar.

The truth of the matter is that music academia's cherished atonal music is simply not as accessible to western music tastes than its predecessor, Romantic music. It is not accessible because atonal music requires an academic ear, not, as music academia and Slonimsky attest, because the public and its music critics are close-minded bigots against everything unfamiliar. Jazz was unfamiliar at first, yet finally became a popular form of music because it was accessible enough to non-academics. Rock, and Rhythm and Blues, styled music was unfamiliar at first, yet became the single most influential music style the twentieth century had produced, worldwide. Atonal music was unfamiliar at first, and continues to be unfamiliar, and more importantly inaccessible, simply because atonal music is difficult for anyone but the most academic of listeners to appreciate.

Throughout the entire last century, however, composers of Modern atonal music, along with their protecting guardians, the music education culture, have been hatefully envious of this naturally unavoidable predicament. Then, in typical academic fashion, they invent pretentious reasons for the predicament, such as that critics and the public are close-minded idiots who aren't worldly enough to appreciate this extremely abstruse, and therefore naturally perplexing, music. The bottom line: Modern music is simply not as accessible as Romantic and other popular music. Anything else added upon this undeniable fact means nothing.

What distinguishes Slonimsky's tirade from most of music academia's attitude, is how he has deceitfully tailored his anthology to suggest that most critics from the nineteenth century had the same inability to accept Romantic innovation as critics of Modern atonal music have had against this completely different, far more esoteric, style of music. Nothing could be further from the truth, and it doesn't even make logical sense that this could be true.

For Romantic music was loved by the public and critics alike. It was mostly loved from the beginning because it was accessible, highly emotional music. The opposite is true for Modern atonal music: it was not loved by the public and critics alike because it was not accessible music to anyone besides academics. Music academics like Slonimsky, a dime a dozen in colleges across America and Europe, will never accept this bona-fide fact. Instead they blame critics' and the public's short-sightedness, our ignorance, anything but acceptance of the truth of their naturally dire predicament. This compilation of historical critique simply edits out essays that do not support the author's point of view.

It seems that academics will stop at nothing to promote their beloved Modern music, which stands to reason since Modern music is inherently more analytical, thus educationally friendly, and inevitably sponsorship for educational careers. Here one music academic, Slonimsky, has created an entire thesis, more than half of which is erroneously based, and organized it into an easily read, thus easily sold, book.

Like most vanguardist promotions, Slonimsky means to uphold music only if it's innovative, original, unfamiliar, academic. So, as is common with these vanguardist academics, he says nothing of new compositions that are captiously criticized by music schools for their lack of originality; newly composed works, for example, that fit neither into the public's current taste nor into the pattern of music that is hailed by academic proponents of Modern music. Believe it or not, music academia is actually more bigoted than the public.

Typically, Slonimsky's rant offers no valid solution to the problem of captious music criticism. But I offer that here: 1) Reduce the value of the business of formal music criticism, since music essentially is a non-verbal expression that deserves more and better appreciation than anything verbal interpretation could offer. 2) Educate music academia to discontinue, or at least reduce, spreading concepts based upon the tenets of academic interpretations of music, by spreading in its place the concept that musing, and otherwise emotionally appreciating music, is supreme in the appreciation of music.

Good luck, especially on #2, which will be very difficult to achieve. For if there's one undeniable fact of music academia, it is filled to the brim with academic types who have never mused. And they dare to call themselves musicians... (Music = muse)

I also found the use of Beethoven's name in the title to be a cheap promotional trick. Summary: Take all verbal music interpretation with a grain of salt. Then shut up and play, or listen, as the case may be.

(982 words)

...is a "fresher" expression for Nicholas Slonimsky's introduction, "Non-Acceptance of the Unfamiliar," to this howler of a compendium of musical criticism.

In a nutshell, this book is a collection of excerpts from reviews, commentary and correspondence regarding the music of forty-three composers over a 150-year span, beginning with Beethoven and ending (approximately) with Bartók, Schoenberg, Shostakovich and Stravinsky. While most of the composers are well-known, some (Henry Cowell, Roy Harris, Wallingford Riegger, Carl Ruggles, Edgar Varèse) are hardly household names. For the most part, the commentary closely follows, in time, the premieres of the works described. (In some cases, this may be years after their original premieres. It often took, in times past, years for the works to get from "the country of origin" to the venues that were the domains of the reviewers and critics. History - and this book - have shown that this extra time was not necessarily an asset in evaluating the works more accurately.)

A quick page count by composer shows that Wagner (at 27 pages), Schoenberg (at 20 pages), Stravinsky (at 19 pages), Strauss (at 16 pages), and Debussy (at 15 pages) come under the greatest critical scrutiny, or, in retrospect, the greatest "fear of the unknown." Surprisingly, other "true revolutionaries" come off somewhat better: Berlioz (at 5 pages), Mahler (at 4 pages), to name two. Even "universally-loved" composers who wrote music which these days is commonly considered accessible don't escape the critics' wrath: Bizet, Brahms, Puccini, Rachmaninoff and Tchaikovsky are some who didn't exactly become accepted overnight.

It's not as if these music critics "who blew it" didn't know their field appropriately. More than a few (César Cui, George Templeton Strong, Virgil Thomson, to name three) were themselves composers, writing about the new music of their contemporaries. Others (Olin Downes, long-time music critic of the New York Times, Henry E. Krehbiel, similarly of the New York Tribune, and Philip Hale, similarly of the Boston Herald) were highly-respected music critics of their time, not normally given to "blowing it" as far as making a bad call against a new piece of music was concerned.

But that is what this book is about: "Blowing it, major-league big-time," usually with style and panache to spare, as well as all the buzzwords and "tricks of the trade" that suggest expertise. Then, along comes the unsuspecting reader of "the next morning's dailies." He (or she) reads the critique, and the die is cast: Wagner (or Strauss or Stravinsky or Debussy; enter a name of your choice) has just composed music that is: cacophonous; caterwauling; noise, non-music; not fit for human consumption (pick one). The reader has fallen victim to this "expert opinion." It is hard to shake this initial "expert" impression. It may take years. It may never happen. And it might have been the fault of the critic in the first instance.

There is one significant omission, perhaps curious only to those who are unfamiliar with some of the other "alter egos" which Slonimsky had: Charles Ives. Now, Ives was America's first "modern" (or, in terms that I think fit him best, our "first-and-only romantic pre-post-modern"), and his music just barely found acceptance within his lifetime, even if this acceptance came many years after he stopped composing and was quite infirm due to a variety of ailments. Slonimsky had been a friend and champion of Ives well before Ives's music caught on with the concert-going public, and I like to think that omission of Ives as a subject of such invective was a conscious decision on the part of Slonimsky, perhaps as a gift from a friend. But it is also true that much of Ives's music went unperformed during his lifetime, thereby escaping the invective it might otherwise have garnered.

I almost thought that there might be a second significant omission, that of Hector Berlioz as music critic (something which he did for the better part of forty years). But the index at the back of the book did turn up one comment of Berlioz's (in a letter [dated 1861]), brief but to the point: "Wagner is evidently mad." By 1861, Berlioz and Wagner had already known each other quite well for some six years or more. Berlioz - despite trying hard - couldn't fathom the chromaticism in Wagner's "Tristan und Isolde," this despite the fact that Wagner wasn't at all bashful about borrowing some of Berlioz's better ideas in his "Romeo et Juliette" for "Tristan und Isolde."

Also curiously absent is any mention of twentieth-century British composers (Vaughan Williams, Holst, Britten, Brian, Bax and so forth). Neither Slonimsky nor Peter Schickele (of P. D. Q. Bach fame, and the writer of a fresh Foreword to this edition) posits why this might be so. There is no shortage of criticism by British critics; they have plenty to say about the musics of composers of other countries. And sheer accessibility cannot be the explanation; the Fourth Symphony of Ralph Vaughan Williams hardly fits the mold of "instant acceptance and accessibility." Curious.

It wouldn't surprise me if every working composer already has a copy of Slonimsky's little masterpiece tucked away for "rainy day" encouragement. And if they don't, they ought to. Music lovers would do well to read how initial critical thinking can affect acceptance of new music, and how critical opinion can change "once the dust settles."

But those who stand to benefit the most from reading this book, as a cautionary tale, perhaps, are the working music reviewers and critics. They (or at least their predecessors) are the ones whose flawed judgements at the time have not withstood history's judgement, resulting in these screamingly funny "critiques."

Good for much more than just a laugh or two! Pick your favorite composer. He's probably been picked apart by someone anthologized in Slonimsky's screamer.

This book is an inspired piece of iconic significance, but
not in the way the author intended. What he DID intend
was to poke fun at music critics for their supposed
"non-acceptance of the unfamiliar." Well the critic's advocate is a role
too easy to adopt: how could anyone other than a clairvoyant
have known that such and such a composer would go on
to be lauded as a genius? Nay, the all-too-obvious benefit
of Slonimsky's hindsight, almost in itself discredits his viewpoint,
genius though he most certainly is. For what becomes clear
soon after starting the book is that the shock value and
the novelty wears off. What does NOT wear off though
is something Slonimsky never intended to protray (because
he was no clairvoyant himself and could not project the decline
of the linguistic standards in journalism subsequent to
his generation): that is the wonderful and eloquent beauty of
of the prose these music critics had. Their ability to describe
music, and its effect on the listener, by using seemingly endless
amounts of imaginative and hilarious simile, and other figurative
language is breathtaking; it's a bountiful joy to read, indicative of
a time when critics had the guts to say what they felt without
the stodgy attitude found in the cliche-ridden dross often found
in today's journalism.

After a while -- once the reader is able to
cast his mind back to a time when music was
supposed to embody truth, beauty, reason,
and be presented by ordered use of harmony,
melody and rhythm -- it is not difficult at all to
agree wholeheartedly with most of what these
writers complain about. For much of Wagner's music
DOES INDEED sound like an "inflated display of extravagance."
Webern's serialism DOES often "call to mind the activity
of insects." Schoenberg DOES "torpedo the eardrums
with deadly dissonance." And on and on. Only a Philistine
university professor (who equates fame with musical quality)
would refuse to admit it.

"...vacillating and fluid harmonies........this music is indeterminate,
vague, fleeting, indecisive, deliberately indefinite.............without
muscle or backbone......grey music forming a sort of sonorous mist....."

That (written in 1910) is the most clear-minded, honest description of Debussy's
music you will ever read. But you won't read this kind
of opinion now, because in the classical music world,
once a composer is famous, he is then off limits to
honest assessment. Only the performance receives analysis.

To be able to see what people thought AT THE TIME,
is a priceless opportunity Slonimsky has bequeathed
to us, regardless of that he did not intend it.
These review excerpts are nothing less than
a testament to the integrity and sincerity
that was once (a long time ago!) represented by men
of the critical pen. The Lexicon should be a required item on the shelf of
everyone who calls himself a writer in the field of the
performing arts. Then maybe scribes would be
more respected.

With all the polysyllabic terms in French, Italian and German, and the dozens of East European composers and conductors, I would like a "dictionary" of music to show me how to pronounce them. If the standard Webster's dictionary assumes I cannot pronounce c-a-t, why does their dictionary of music assume I can pronounce Dvorak, Kuijken or ripieno?

I found that this dictionary, just from a quick glance at it in a store, was perfect for what I needed(which was both studying, and composing). It gave great information on composers, theory, and the ranges of most instruments(including ethnic instruments such as the er-hu and sitar).