Music and bad manners

In Short

This volume is a series of critical essays examining the intersection of musical innovation and human temperament. Moving from the notorious "bad manners" of legendary performers to the radical experiments of the Futurist composers, it explores how new sounds are birthed through conflict and public resistance. It has lasted because it captures a pivotal, volatile moment in music history—the dawn of modernism—with a sharp, unsentimental wit. For any reader interested in the messy, human side of art, it remains a vivid account of why the avant-garde is both necessary and perpetually misunderstood.

The Story

The narrative begins with a provocative premise: that the world of classical music is populated by figures whose professional genius is matched only by their personal absurdity. The author dismantles the myth of the hallowed concert hall, pointing out that musicians are often as prone to petty malevolence or public tantrums as any other human being. We see sopranos throwing roasts in fits of pique and pianists like Vladimir de Pachmann delighting in eccentricities that scandalize the bourgeois audience. Yet, the author argues, this volatility is a secondary concern to the main event: the constant, grinding friction between the artist’s vision and the public’s resistance.

As the scope widens, the focus shifts from the performer to the work itself. We move into the territory of the "futurists" and the experimentalists, such as Alberto Savinio and Leo Ornstein, whose physical approach to the piano—sometimes playing until their fingers bleed—mirrors the violence of their compositions. The author describes the chaos of early performances, where audiences hissed and jeered not out of a reasoned critique, but out of a reflexive hostility toward anything they could not immediately categorize. The account of a Futurist concert in Milan serves as the center of this storm, where "noise-intonators" are drowned out by the "billowing seas of howls, jeers, and cat-calls" from a public determined to protect the status quo.

The arc of the book then turns toward the potential for renewal. Through a detailed investigation of Spanish music, the author argues that national traditions provide a wellspring for modern expression, though they are often obscured by cultural misconceptions and the lazy habits of operatic tradition. By analyzing composers like Isaac Albeniz and the staging of Wagner’s operas, the author makes a plea for a more sincere engagement with art—one that discards stale traditions and embraces the "sensuous material" of the work itself.

Finally, the book settles into a meditation on the nature of progress. The author reflects on the "enemy"—those who find the new music bewildering—and finds that their very misunderstanding is a necessary catalyst for the evolution of the art form. We see the young prodigy Leo Ornstein evolve from a radical futurist back toward the traditional repertoire, highlighting the complex, non-linear path of any true artist. The journey concludes not with a resolution of the conflict between the new and the old, but with an invitation to the listener: to open their ears to the dissonance, to accept the inevitability of change, and to recognize that the "madness" of the modern composer is simply the sound of new rules being written.

How It Unfolds

The myth of the virtuoso The author deconstructs the sanctity of the concert stage, demonstrating that the greatest musicians are frequently defined by their "bad manners" and tempestuous personalities.

The anatomy of a scandal Using the example of Futurist concerts, the narrative depicts the visceral, often violent clash between performers using experimental instruments and an audience committed to rejection.

Spain as a musical frontier The discussion pivots to the history and potential of Spanish music, critiquing how foreign eyes have historically misinterpreted the nation's rich traditions of dance and opera.

The decay of tradition The focus turns to the stagecraft of Wagner, arguing that rigid, outdated traditions are actively destroying the spirit of the works they claim to honor.

The necessity of dissonance The final chapters synthesize these experiences into an argument for the "new music," positing that discord is not a failure of art, but a necessary development in the evolution of musical language.

The People

The book centers on the figures who dared to break the established order. Leo Ornstein stands as the primary avatar of this tension; he is the "wunderkind" who shocks audiences with his fist-pounding, discordant piano style, only to later puzzle his observers by performing standard, polite repertoire. Alberto Savinio is presented as an extreme example of the artist who sacrifices his own body—quite literally drawing blood from his fingers—to extract new sounds from the keyboard. Richard Wagner appears not just as a composer, but as a ghost haunting the modern stage, his work trapped between his original intent and the clumsy, money-saving traditions of modern opera houses. Oscar Hammerstein emerges as a visionary impresario who bet on the public’s appetite for the new, proving that esoteric art can find a devoted audience if presented with conviction. Finally, the "bourgeois" audience acts as the collective antagonist—a reactive, comfort-seeking force that serves as the essential, if annoying, foil against which the modern composer must define their work.

In Its Own Voice

“As a matter of fact, once an artist reaches the platform he is on his mettle, at his best.”

The author explains that the public tantrums of musicians often vanish the moment they begin to perform, where they transform into something superhuman.

“The most daring modern spirit is only following in the steps of the mightiest masters.”

The author reflects on how the harsh dissonances of the present are merely a continuation of the same bold path taken by Bach and Beethoven in their own time.

What It's Really About

The book is a defense of the "new" in art. It argues that progress in music is inherently disruptive and that the audience’s annoyance is often the surest sign of a breakthrough. It explores the tension between tradition—which the author views as a static, often destructive force—and the "sensuous material" of the art itself, which requires the listener to shed their expectations. The underlying question is how an audience can transcend its own prejudices to hear the music as it is, rather than as they were taught it should be. It is ultimately an inquiry into the nature of sincerity and the role of the critic in bridging the gap between the radical innovator and the hesitant public.

Why Read It Today

Read this book if you are weary of the overly reverent, academic tone that often surrounds classical music. It is written with a sharp, journalistic vitality that feels refreshingly immediate, even a century later. You will love it if you enjoy watching the "high art" world lose its composure; the author’s tone is consistently warm but delightfully unimpressed by the self-importance of the musical establishment.

There are challenges, however. The prose assumes a reader who is either familiar with or willing to look up the names of early 20th-century composers and critics who have since faded into obscurity. The author’s references to "the bourgeois" or specific contemporary operas can feel dated, and the period attitude toward "temperament" may strike modern readers as a bit romanticized. Yet, these very qualities make the book a time capsule. It captures the exact moment when the old world of the 19th century was cracking open to make way for the jarring, exciting, and confusing sounds of the modern era. You will walk away with a renewed curiosity about the "difficult" music on your playlist and a healthy skepticism toward anyone who tells you how a performance is "supposed" to sound.