"Has it struck you that the music which is regarded as the most sublime in western civilization, which is the music of Bach, is called baroque?"
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Schaeffer’s little provocation lands because it turns a supposedly neutral label into a cultural tell. “Baroque” started life as an insult: irregular, misshapen, excessive. So when he asks why Bach - the figure Western institutions routinely crown as “sublime” - sits under a tag that originally meant too much, too ornate, almost wrong, he’s prodding a basic contradiction in how taste gets certified. We pretend the canon is timeless; the language around it is full of historical baggage, and sometimes that baggage is the point.
The question is doing two jobs at once. On the surface it’s trivia with teeth: a reminder that genres aren’t natural species but social categories with a backstory. Underneath it’s a Schaeffer-style critique of listening habits. As the father of musique concrete, he spent his career arguing that what we hear is shaped by frames, names, and institutions as much as by sound itself. Calling Bach “baroque” is a way of domesticating him - filing the wildness, the density, the almost mechanical ecstasy of that music into an era box. The canon survives by turning risk into heritage.
There’s also a sly warning to modernists. Today’s “weird” becomes tomorrow’s monument; yesterday’s “excess” becomes the gold standard. If Bach can be both the apex of Western seriousness and the child of a term once used to sneer, then Schaeffer is asking: which of our current dismissals are just the future’s masterpieces waiting for a better name?
The question is doing two jobs at once. On the surface it’s trivia with teeth: a reminder that genres aren’t natural species but social categories with a backstory. Underneath it’s a Schaeffer-style critique of listening habits. As the father of musique concrete, he spent his career arguing that what we hear is shaped by frames, names, and institutions as much as by sound itself. Calling Bach “baroque” is a way of domesticating him - filing the wildness, the density, the almost mechanical ecstasy of that music into an era box. The canon survives by turning risk into heritage.
There’s also a sly warning to modernists. Today’s “weird” becomes tomorrow’s monument; yesterday’s “excess” becomes the gold standard. If Bach can be both the apex of Western seriousness and the child of a term once used to sneer, then Schaeffer is asking: which of our current dismissals are just the future’s masterpieces waiting for a better name?
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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