"I dare suggest that the composer would do himself and his music an immediate and eventual service by total, resolute and voluntary withdrawal from this public world to one of private performance and electronic media"
About this Quote
Babbitt isn’t politely asking for solitude; he’s proposing an escape plan. The phrasing is almost bureaucratically severe: "total, resolute and voluntary withdrawal". Each stacked adjective tightens the screw, turning what could be read as elitism into a strategic retreat. He frames it as "service" to both composer and music, a deliberately utilitarian justification that sidesteps romance about the concert hall and goes straight to outcomes: survival, integrity, development.
The intent is defensive but not timid. Babbitt is writing from a mid-century moment when advanced, academically inflected modernism (serialism, high formal complexity) had a shrinking social contract with the general concert audience. The public sphere demands legibility, spectacle, and the reassurance that your attention will be rewarded on familiar terms. His subtext: that contract is already broken. If a composer keeps auditioning for mass approval, the music gets pressured into compromise or, worse, into being misunderstood as failure rather than a different kind of success.
The "private performance and electronic media" line is the tell. This isn’t a hermit fantasy; it’s a rerouting of infrastructure. Electronics and recording promise a distribution system less dependent on traditional gatekeepers, patrons, and the rituals of the concert hall. It’s also a subtle redefinition of audience: from the anonymous "public world" to smaller, self-selected listeners with the patience and curiosity the music requires.
There’s irony here too: withdrawal is pitched as progress, and isolation as communication. Babbitt’s wager is that modern music might flourish only after it stops begging to be liked.
The intent is defensive but not timid. Babbitt is writing from a mid-century moment when advanced, academically inflected modernism (serialism, high formal complexity) had a shrinking social contract with the general concert audience. The public sphere demands legibility, spectacle, and the reassurance that your attention will be rewarded on familiar terms. His subtext: that contract is already broken. If a composer keeps auditioning for mass approval, the music gets pressured into compromise or, worse, into being misunderstood as failure rather than a different kind of success.
The "private performance and electronic media" line is the tell. This isn’t a hermit fantasy; it’s a rerouting of infrastructure. Electronics and recording promise a distribution system less dependent on traditional gatekeepers, patrons, and the rituals of the concert hall. It’s also a subtle redefinition of audience: from the anonymous "public world" to smaller, self-selected listeners with the patience and curiosity the music requires.
There’s irony here too: withdrawal is pitched as progress, and isolation as communication. Babbitt’s wager is that modern music might flourish only after it stops begging to be liked.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
|---|---|
| Source | Who Cares If You Listen? (1958), essay by Milton Babbitt — contains the line urging composers to withdraw to private performance and electronic media. |
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