I’m going to rant today in a most uncouth manner. Apologies in advance.

Nearly two years (and very few entries) ago, I lamented the fate of musical orphanhood. Of course, in that instance, I was discussing the utter absence of any compositional fraternity in the Great American Wasteland (i.e., anything west of New York City, at least according to those on the scene. I happen to enjoy living in the Midwest, but what do I know?).

But I’ve been considering an interesting parallel that arose in my previous entry—also from nearly two years ago, and also a lament of sorts. At that time, I was disconcerted by the relative lack of rigor required to produce prize-winning classical music. Strike that; I remain disconcerted. Anyone who attempts to convince me that pieces created through so little effort are somehow deserving of accolades has a long row to hoe.

This week, I’ve been listening to two-time Pulitzer Prize-winner Leon Kirchner. A recent interview with the Claremont Trio set me along that path, particularly the following passage:

Leon Kirchner’s Trios are pillars of the 20th century piano trio repertoire that had never before been recorded together on the same disc. I think it’s fascinating to see the contrast between the concise, almost jagged construction of the first trio and the fanciful, at times wistful unfolding of the second, which was written almost 40 years later.

Now, don’t make the mistaken assumption that I am lumping Kirchner’s work into the category previously mentioned. There is art here. Lily, for instance, is a glorious exploration of timbre and instrumental dialogue. It reminds me of everything I adore about Stravinsky.

Kirchner’s 2006 string quartet demonstrates a maturity that stands in contrast to the explosive emotion of his earlier works. In this respect, he is like most every composer who had the privilege of a long career writing music. When one considers melodic and harmonic aspects of these works, however, no such evolution is apparent. In terms of pitch class selection, Kirchner may as well be writing the same piece more than half a century later. His voice? Perhaps. The result of instruction? Likely. After all, Kirchner is a direct descendant of the Second Viennese School.

My favorite composers include the likes of Beethoven, Stravinsky, Bernstein and Miles Davis. Noticing a pattern? Good.

The world changes. Music, as with every aspect of our dynamic universe, must likewise change. But to what end are we headed? Where can we find evolution of value? I’m not seeing it streaming from NYC. An apt if crass and poorly constructed metaphor springs to mind: the fruits borne of notable contemporary composers are the mutilated children of Schoenberg and La Mont Young. Is this the best we can hope for? We are offered the results of truly uninspired creation. This reality is depressing beyond words.