In the 5 June 2000 issue of the New Yorker, Alex Ross writes in his
criticism titled "The Magic Mountain," subtitled "Surviving the CD
avalanche,"

"Classical-record collectors are among the oddest subspecies of the family
of man. They come in two types -- the completist and the obscurantist."
The completist has to own every known recording of a work, while the
obscurantist has to possess and glorify every obscure composer. Ross
seems to think these two type mutually exclusive, while my experience is
that they often come in pairs. In any event, the significance of this
observation is completely lost on me -- as it appears to be for Ross as
well. He simply pontificates the bifurcation and moves on.

Another pontification, and about the only thing interesting Ross has to
write, is,

"Recordings, in short, are fetish objects, sublimations of a solitary,
most male desire. But they have a crucial role to play in musical life.
They supply snapshots of young artists, open up the neglected areas of
the repertory, preserve the great voices of the past." His adumbrative
ruminations are left to stand on their own. How ever he concocted such a
profile of the collector of classical recordings remains a mystery -- even
though his disingenuous assertions seem to cry for a foundation.

The remainder of the article is no less vacuous. He does repeat the mantra
of "obsessive-compulsive" in his reference to the auditors as well as
collectors of classical recordings. And this is really his only interesting
starting point. But, alas, he takes it nowhere. Mere assertion establishes
his own a posteriori views.

In an example of how not to embark on criticism of classical recordings,
he denounces in turn Barenboim, extols Gieseking and Wand's Bruckner
(mentioning the merits of the budget label Naxos' recordings for its
excellence and price) but not explaining, or justifying, his views. In
another flatulent remark, he writes, "One composer who is looking bullish
in the CD market is Ferruccio Busoni, the turn-of-the-century pianist,
theorist, and visionary. Composers have lately been rediscovering Busoni's
music as an alternative path through the thickets of early modernism; his
eclectic, evasive style now seems like a kind of a 'third way' between
tradition and abstraction." Yet, the only composition that Ross cites to
support this thesis is Teldec's recording of Busoni's "masterpiece". "Die
Brautwahl." Retrenching, he writes, "Barenboim has proved his usefulness by
leading his Berlin State Opera forces in a live recording" of this work.
Surely, Dan must be delighted to know he's useful somewhere. But Ross is
quick to add that this piece "lacks a dramatic center, but the score
ravishes the ear with catchy ditties, comic set pieces, shimmering
orchestral textures, and a general aura of midnight magic." So that
explains it!

What evidence does Ross cite to justify his generous and benevolent
accolade of Kent Negano recording of Busoni's "Doktor Faust?" "Busoni's
art needs no special pleading; it casts an immediate and lasting spell."
Neither I nor most readers requested a special pleading, just an
explanation. Yet, none is forthcoming.

The article continues along these lines. It's quite a bore, but beyond
that, it is an example of how *not to write a review of classical music,
the folly of making pontifical and pompous statements, and the vacuity when
one fails to justify something without reason. What I had hoped to be a
synthesis of several recordings segued by a single theme throughout turned
out to be nothing of the sort. How I miss Andrew from the pre-Tina days at
the New Yorker.

D. Stephen Heersink <[log in to unmask]>