Should music be graded?
Think of this as an analogous, if lower-stakes, debate akin to the discussion surrounding the proposed repeal of the MCAS as a high school graduation requirement, which you’ll vote on as a state ballot initiative (Question 2) in November.
Consider the proposal of a uniform grading system for music. It’s not my idea (what do I know?); credit the notion instead to people such as English painter and author Jonathan Richardson, whose 18th century manuscript “Essay on the Whole Art of Criticism” (modest title!) proposed to reduce art criticism to an 18-point scale that tallied up numeric scores in various categories, such as drawing, composition, invention, coloring and more.
Eighteen is kind of a lumpy number. And it isn’t entirely clear how some of the more visually motivated categories such as “drawing” map on to music. But Richardson, and his slightly askance painter’s beret, were hot on the trail of an art critical gold mine: objective assessment.
Fast-forward to the present day and we have all types of art grading systems. Siskel and Ebert gave us the thumbs. Robert Christgau, the “dean of American rock critics,” traumatized generations of musicians with letter grades in his famous Consumer Guide. And Pitchfork hands out scores on the 10-point scale, which is a number that enjoys the virtue of not being 18.
Critics being critics, though, most can’t let the ratings speak for themselves. Once the sheen of objective assessment is glistening sufficiently, like bacon in the pan, most critics will lather the rating with subjective gloss to get their kicks. Christgau famously skewered the soon-to-be legendary Sonic Youth in the early ’80s, calling them “boho posers,” flaunting “hackneyed manic depression,” addicted to “phony grandeur.” Yikes!
As the ’80s marched on, Christgau changed his tune. After years of grades not good enough to admit a nonlegacy into an Ivy League school, Christgau gave “Sister” (1987) an A for “not letting their slack-jawed musings drone on too long.”
Not quite a ringing endorsement. But by the time he issued another A to “Daydream Nation” a year later, he was ready to brand “their discordant never-let-up” as “a philosophical triumph.” He graded at least 10 more full-length studio albums by Sonic Youth over the span of 20 more years and never handed out anything less than an A-.
Quite the turnaround – what happened?
Sonic Youth went on to become one of the most influential bands of their generation, giving spark to the “alternative” sound that defined the ’90s and marked rock ’n’ roll ever since. It’s not clear whether the band’s sound caught up to Christgau’s tastes or vice versa. But it’s clear that if the “boho posers” took their early skewering too seriously, the band would never have survived to find its place in music history.
Happily, nobody takes art criticism too seriously. As bad as it is to be called a “boho poser,” you can still scrape up three or four people who don’t give a damn and go make noise in a club. Art criticism is provocative, full of insights and also full of bullshit that changes with the wind. It should be ignored at will because the consequences of not doing so are too awful.
Let me circle back to the MCAS debate, though, because the test is a great example of a value assessment that people can’t bring themselves to ignore – with awful consequences. There is no good evidence that standardized tests are a fair and accurate predictor of success, and plenty of evidence to the contrary. But goddamn, the glistening sheen of objectivity, however illusory, is downright erotic.
If you are really looking for ways to measure the aptitude, abilities and knowledge of our students, go ask the Massachusetts Teachers Association. It has plenty of ideas, including using the MCAS as a diagnostic tool rather than a prerequisite for a diploma. What is useful about standardized tests is compromised when they’re used the way we use a period at the end of a sentence. To cut things short. To cut potential short.
Presumably we’re not just looking for a reason to classify a chunk of state residents as human chum condemned to a lifetime of lower earnings and diminished opportunity because they didn’t score high enough on a standardized test to earn a high school diploma when they were teenagers? Those are the consequences. The stakes are high. Nothing wrong with assessments, but you’ve got to be able to tell the Richardsons, the Christgaus, the Pitchforks and the MCAS to go to hell once in a while.
And if none of the above moves you, just listen to the teachers. What do they say? To vote “yes” on Question 2 to repeal the MCAS requirement for graduation. If we’re not listening to the teachers on this question, what are we doing?
Hit this
Saturday: Bent Knee, Nova One, Shibui (The Sinclair, Cambridge)
This column is really on the “outdated artist blurb on The Sinclair website” grind lately. Does anyone read these blurbs besides me? Last week I was muttering about the old copy for Oso Oso. And here we are again, with the Bent Knee artist blurb at sinclaircambridge.com touting the release of a 4-year-old record when the full-length “Twenty Pills Without Water” drops at the end of August. Also, the blurb commits to six band members when only four are shown in the band photo. Seems ominous. Dreamy popper Nova One and experimental electro Shibui open.
Aug. 23-24: Somergloom 2024 (Arts at the Armory, Somerville)
Plenty of satanism-adjacent fun to be had at Somergloom. The schedule packs a lot of black band T-shirts into two days at everyone’s favorite local former barracks for the Somerville Light Infantry. But you have to add “adjacent” because, despite a lineup that includes names such as Final Gasp, Spiritual Poison, Luci Dead Limb and Strawberry Coffin, the practitioners of heavy music are nice droogs who worry more about hot licks than sacrificing farm animals. If you’re into that sort of tomfoolery, connect with the members of The Satanic Temple, who, having lost their case against the Boston City Council, may finally be free to return to their modest, devotional life of Satanic quietude back in Salem.
Live: Yotam Ishay & Anastasiya Voytyuk at the Lilypad
The twin headliners at this Sunday evening affair in Inman Square were pianist Yotam Ishay and vocalist Voytyuk and her bandura. “Headliner” is too grandiose a term, though, to capture the cozy ambience of a room that felt more like a reunion of old friends than your standard $15 cover gig. The crowd kicked off their shoes, cracked jokes between songs (sometimes during) and ogled the performers with poor camera technique like proud grandparents at their granddaughter’s dance recital.
Anastasiya Voytyuk, also known as BanduraGirl, used her unusual instrument to both educate and entertain. The bandura is a Ukrainian plucked-string folk instrument, sporting anywhere from 31 to 68 strings, combining elements of the lute (when it comes to plucking) and the zither (when it comes to strumming across the face), to produce a sound that is at once earthy and ethereal.
The bandura has a politically charged history too. One thing both Tsarist Russia and the Bolsheviks could agree on is that the folk traditions accompanying the instrument gave life to notions of Ukrainian independence that posed a threat to Russian rule. Bandurists were routinely harassed, arrested and murdered in the first half of the 20th century as part of the general effort to tamp down subversive nationalist sentiments.
The instrument was gradually reintroduced to respectability under the watchful eye of Soviet authorities in the second half of the century, by which time the lamplight for Ukrainian independence had presumably been extinguished, or the Politburo simply had bigger fish to fry on the hot skillet of the Cold War. You can imagine for yourself what the instrument represents in the hearts and minds of Ukrainians in the present moment.
But Sunday evening was about friends, not enemies, sharing stories and songs. Voytyuk performed an old Ukrainian folk song about the creation of the world. Afterward she did a little crowd work, inviting the audience to join in with an onomatopoeic refrain that imitated the sound of a scythe at work. “Shhhith, shhhith, shhhith” goes the blade as it cuts low sheaves of summer grass. “Shhhith, shhhith, shhhith” as the sun rises and falls over the day’s hard labor.
Harshitha Krishnan contributed vocals throughout the evening as a special guest performer, including some remarkable trills over the piano notes of longtime collaborator Yotam Ishay.
Michael Gutierrez is an author, educator, activist and editor-in-chief at Hump Day News.
A stronger
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Excuse me, but The Satanic Temple’s FAQ page says “Rituals never involve the promotion of suffering, do not involve animals” so let’s not go spreading false info because the rituals they do allow are, well, actually kind of rock-n-roll, like the “Destruction ritual” during which participants destroy an object they own that symbolizes a source of pain in their lives. Makes you think that perhaps even Elvis Presley shouted “Hell yeah, Satan!” each time he shot bullets (allegedly) through all those television sets. Otherwise, great fun column as usual!
Harmonicat,
Yeah, you’re right, that was a lazy “Satanic panic” cheap shot at TST. I stand corrected. But Satanism without animal sacrifice? What is that even?
Thanks for reading!
Mike
Destruction of Western civilization and free speech.