New Music is Not Made for the Algorithm
If New Music is made for venues like concert or chamber halls, then what happens when the venue is online? The particular listening environment which is the internet seems, at first glance, to be less focused than its in-person counterpart. You could post comments, get some online shopping done, and even eat a loud, crunchy snack without disturbing others. But you’ll also be tempted to check on the laundry, let the dog out, and multitask in any number of other ways. Inevitably, you aren’t just distracted by the online environment, but also by your physical surroundings which are (probably) not as isolated as a performance space.
Aside from distraction, there are additional factors which arise online; listeners become users who can comment, like, and subscribe. The role has been covertly, if perhaps significantly changed, in order to provide a quantifiable metric for critical and popular reception. What happens to listener expectation when the number of views is placed right next to the title, preceding even the first note? Beyond how these numbers may affect perception, metrics are fed into “the algorithm” which is always working, watching, waiting (lurking?) just to see if its recommendations are optimized.
It is easy to be concerned about how the algorithm may affect art in general. But, devil’s advocate here, art has long been subject to economics and commodification, so to say that an algorithm picking songs is entirely worse, or even much different, than a radio station doing the same, seems a bit suspect. I certainly prefer the idea of a human DJ with good taste and freedom of choice, but many mainstream radio stations have to play to the market in much the same way as the algorithm. Similarly, performing ensembles have to program works which attract a paying audience—that is, unless they have secured some other source of funding outside of market demands. In short, the algorithm and the market seem to be different manifestations of commodified reception. As for the title of this article, (“New Music is Not Made for the Algorithm”) I want to clarify that I don’t think any artform is made entirely for the algorithm or popular reception because that would render it essentially equivalent to an advertisement, or maybe even a virus. But New Music does face some unique challenges with regard to the algorithm, and it is to these aspects which I would presently like to turn.
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The first issue, as aforementioned, is that the New Music genre, or contemporary classical, or whatever else it may be called, comes from a performance setting that typically assumes some level of focused listening through the entire duration of a piece. Often with live performers and an audience, New Music is usually more long-form, and not designed with the online medium in mind. For example, if I’m writing music for an audience sitting in a concert hall, I can develop ideas over long spans of time, and include sections which are very soft, or subtle in some way; knowing that they stand a better chance of being heard. But if that same music is played in the background of regular life activities, it often doesn’t translate well. Maybe you can’t hear it over road noise while driving, or perhaps you missed part of the piece while having a conversation. Whatever the case, there’s a very distinct feeling as a listener that you’re missing out on too much of the music, and not able to enjoy, or even understand it, as a result.
The second issue is also one of the things I love most about New Music—how challenging it can be. There’s this incredible feeling of growth when you learn to love something which previously seemed strange, unfamiliar, or even incomprehensible. Truly unique experiences can arise from New Music’s experimental nature, but that same aspect also renders it somewhat less approachable than music which follows established norms. In fact, I believe “experimental” is about the only concept which links all the disparate styles of New Music together. While it is true that some styles might be more familiar and approachable than others, to be called “New Music” implies some degree of novel experimentation beyond the norms of popular music.
I want to be very careful to clarify here that I am not making a value judgement about so-called “high art” and “low art.” Even if we (incorrectly and condescendingly) assume that New Music is more innovative and complex than popular music, this still bears no connection to its artistic value. In fact, popular music is often more immediately poignant due to its concise and direct presentation. If a pop song is like a poem, then a symphony is like a novel, and neither is better than the other. But it stands to reason that the quickly comprehensible nature of popular music makes it more conducive to the casual or short-term listening environment which exists online, and puts New Music at a natural disadvantage. There certainly are concise and direct examples of New Music which can be found, but again, its experimental nature renders it less immediately familiar than music which produces clear stylistic expectations for the listener.
The third issue is the lack of free, online availability of New Music recordings. This is something I discussed at greater length in my previous article; with the general takeaway being that we should think of New Music recordings as a form of outreach. By prioritizing funding for recordings, we could increase accessibility to the genre, allow it to be more visible online, and foster communities of fans who primarily use the internet to connect. This also respects the prevalent pattern of music consumption, where people discover recordings first, and then decide to attend concerts—rather than the reverse which exists in the classical spheres. It is far too common for premiers of new works to precede their recordings by years, if ever they are recorded at all. A paying audience at a specific time and place become the privileged few to experience the work, leaving virtually everyone else in the dark.
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To summarize the three “issues” discussed above: New Music is designed for focused listening which is often live and long-form; it is experimental, and thus lacks familiarity; and lastly, it is not widely available online or in recordings. The first two points must, generally-speaking, be accepted as inherent to the genre, whereas the third is a question of funding and priorities. Which is to say, that even if recordings were available, the challenging nature of New Music would remain a deterrent to the algorithm. Should we despair over this intractable dilemma? Avoid the difficulty of translating New Music to online spaces and simply focus on attracting people to the concerts themselves?
In fact, a great deal of New Music social media already seems to be oriented to such promotional concerns. Pictures, programs, and flyers all point to concerts which, more often than not, are only experienced by the live, paying audience. I don’t think this approach is entirely a bad idea, but it does overlook the above points on how people currently consume music: they begin with recordings, they form communities online, and then they attend concerts. Without the core (that is, the music/audio) of New Music available, there exists a bit of a vacuum online. Our goal as an industry should not be to “fill seats,” but to create authentic communities of fans who will, as a natural byproduct, attend concerts.
But if we want to foster those communities, then that means meeting the people where they are, which is increasingly online. This circles us back (again and again) to the central dilemma—how can New Music confront online spaces in general, and the algorithm in particular? Despite the bleak outlook which the present article may depict, I really do not wish to add to the long list of criticisms frequently foisted upon the classical genre. This is a genre which I love dearly, and I yet believe there are many reasons to hope for the future of New Music. In my next article, I will chase these glimmers of light, and hopefully find a path forward for the genre.