Robert Peters replies to me:

>>Most classical listeners can't even read the music they listen to.
>
>So what? Do you have to be able to paint to love art?

No, you don't.  But you do have to be able to look, and it's also nice if
you can look intelligently.  The latter I can't do at all.  I have no idea
what makes one picture better or worse than another.  I have only vague
feelings of liking this one, disliking that one, or finding the other one
"interesting." I wouldn't claim that I knew or understood visual art at
all, not even a little bit.

>>As for electronic keyboards, most of them really don't help one learn
>>classical music from the inside out or, indeed, keyboard technique.
>>There are so many bells and whistles on the thing, you can sound pretty
>>extraordinary simply by pressing down one note.
>
>And classical music is meant to be discipline and pleasureless work?

No.  Why do you believe such work is pleasureless? Earlier times --
pre-mechanical and electronic reproduction -- didn't seem to consider it
so.  But that's beside the point, which, as I recall, was that too many
condemn the unfamiliar music without making a significant effort to let
it become familiar, preferring to blame the composer, "intellectuals" (in
the evil sense of the word), and the Secret Cabal of Academics.  Passive
listening doesn't count as significant effort.

Last night at the Louisiana Philharmonic, they had to make a last-minute
program change, and thus the orchestra played Bartok's Der wunderbare
Mandarin Suite.  This work is now at least 75 years old.  It's hardly the
last word of Awful Modern Music.  Yet board members were so scared of it,
they asked the conductor to prepare the audience for The Worst.  The result
of the very good performance was rather gratifying:  Audience members
whistled, cheered, and stomped their feet.  They called the conductor back
five times for lengthy bows (the norm is two; three is exceptional).  Some
of them even stood (I was one), but that's often just a knee-jerk thing,
so we won't count it.  The main reason I stood was because I wanted to
encourage them to do more of that kind of music.  The conductor was so
happy, he invited us all back for the Rite of Spring concert.  Bela rocks!
Now, it seems to me -- and it's always struck me as very curious -- that
the people who know classical music more than a little bit are usually
the ones most resistant to "hard" modern and contemporary music.  Genuine
neophytes -- as much of the New Orleans audience is -- have far less
trouble.  The couple in back of me were taking a music-appreciation course
at one of the local universities.  They were really worried about having
to endure the Bartok.  The piece came, and they loved it.  They related it
to the gang music from West Side Story.  Incidentally, the final work was
Beethoven's first symphony (a charmer), and they found it dull, except for
the last movement.

I realize that I seem to be taking two different positions, but it really
is two different points.  One can fall in or out of love at first sight.
One can also fall in or out of love after getting to know the object of
one's affections.  The objection to the second is usually, "But I already
hate it.  Why should I take the trouble to get to know it?" The only reason
is that if you can change your mind, more music opens up to you.  This is
why I stuck with Brahms after decades of being bored out of my skull by
most of his music.  This is why I continue to stick with Mozart.

Steve Schwartz