Creativity Quote by Charles Rosen

Rosen’s line is a cool, pointed reminder that “greatness” and “love” are not the same currency in culture. Stravinsky can be canonized, programmed, and revered; Verdi gets hugged. The intent isn’t to dunk on modernism so much as to diagnose what certain kinds of music do to a public. Verdi’s operas were designed for mass emotional uptake: singable lines, clear dramatic stakes, melodies that feel like they already belong to you. They metabolize quickly into civic ritual - choruses you can hum, deaths you can grieve on schedule, politics you can read through romance. Public affection, here, is almost a social technology.

Stravinsky, by contrast, is the emblem of 20th-century prestige: rhythmic shock, stylistic reinvention, the aura of the difficult. Even when he’s tuneful, he’s rarely pleading for your identification; he keeps a certain aerodynamic distance. Rosen’s subtext is that modern art often trades intimacy for innovation, and then acts surprised when the crowd’s devotion migrates elsewhere. It’s not an argument against Stravinsky’s achievement; it’s an argument about how achievement is received.

The context matters: Rosen lived in a century that built institutions around “important” music - universities, grant culture, high-modernist taste-making. His phrasing (“even Stravinsky”) carries a sly acknowledgment of that hierarchy, then punctures it with the blunt metric that ultimately embarrasses elites: what people actually cherish, return to, and claim as theirs.