His primary service has been to review and uphold musicians and composers, classical or otherwise, whom he likes, without seeming to propagandize on their behalf, whether these are obscure, like Harry Partch, neglected by the avant-garde, like Jean Sibelius, or extremely popular but also extremely subtle and pluralist in their musical sources, like Radiohead and Björk, such that they deserve the acumen of a classically-trained critic. He has not even wasted his time calling out frauds and denouncing trends even when he does do this, as with his modestly unkind comments about composer and conductor Pierre Boulez, he transforms the polemic dialectically into a positive remark on the field of music as a whole. He has never succumbed to the frank exhalations of despair or recalcitrant bourgeois snobbery typical of many other writers in the field. Which is why if 20th century music has any rebound, it will, it is quite likely, owe a deep gratitude to Ross. Until figures like Ross began their advocacy, it was difficult to find these obscure composers and their even obscurer recordings and concerts. Thanks to Stanley Kubrick’s musical kleptomania, Ligeti made it into 2001: A Space Odyssey (without earning a dime) and became reasonably well known most other composers are not so lucky. This is a weird fact of 20th century listening, and it has more to do with the hidebound stodginess of wealthy subscribers and patrons, who tend to cough through entire concerts, than with the preferences of listeners. My local station, like most, considers classical music a kind of floral wallpaper, soothing, mostly harmless: its most popular program might be the mid-workday accompaniment, “Island of Sanity.” My local symphony was recently considered adventurous for putting on György Ligeti’s Requiem for the first time: one of the best works of 20th century music, which debuted in 1965, the same year as The Beatles’ Rubber Soul. Turn to any classical music radio station, and it will be a miracle if a week of continuous listening results in hearing more than one piece from the 20th century. Rather, more than his contemporaries, he draws an attention of rare sensitivity to modern classical music-a sphere of cultural activity that shows few signs of recovering in any respect from its mid-20th century decline. I do not mean he is the best writer (though he may be) or the most intelligent (also possible). Alex Ross is the most important arts critic writing for the New Yorker.
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