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N E W S

Hello from the composer.

In the past couple of days I've been overwhelmed by an outpouring of support regarding my latest post here and on social media. There seems to have been the misconception that I might be considering withdrawing from music, and many colleagues and listeners have sent words of encouragement. I appreciate the support, and I should have been clearer – I have zero intention of changing professions. I may be unhappy with my youthful works, but then again, what composer past the age of 30 isn't? Even Schubert, who passed away aged 31, hated his symphonies (which, to anyone else, are absolutely delightful).


In going through a number of my younger works, and also re-listening to the composers who inspired me at the time, it occurred to me that my artistic goals then were simply different from what they are now. For example, one of the things that bothered my 20s self was the fact that classical music lacks the immediate drive and energy of modern popular music; so back in the day, I was constantly looking for ways to inject that hard-hitting energy into the classical tonal language. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. Another thing that irked me was the repetitive nature of certain forms – and as a consequence, I'd often end up cramming twenty different variations into a three-minute development. Looking at it now, at a slightly more sedate age, it reads like madness, at least at first glance. At second glance, I realise there was always a method behind it.


Long story short, while I still wouldn't want to listen to or perform my old material in concert anymore (and for the hundredth time...), I have become a little more mellow in my judgement of my younger self. I did what I could at the time. Now, seeing the errors in full clarity, I can do better. Artistically and biographically, this is a favourable development, not a tragedy.


Over the past couple of days, I have heard numerous objections from good, encouraging people (whom I very much appreciate). To save others the trouble, I thought I'd address the most common concerns:


1) "Why did you delete the albums on streaming platforms? People have saved it in playlists and might have memories hinging on this or that piece."


If you're one of them, please let me know which track you are missing, and I'll send it to you, for free.

2) "You're being too hard on yourself. Your music is still better than that of [social media starlet having massive success with kitsch piano/untrained film composer/atonal music maker]."


In some ways it has been better, it some ways it has been worse.


Does my music have better craftsmanship than some amateur social media starlet? Yes – that's the least you should be able to expect from a trained composer – but its presentation has been infinitely poorer. Visual aesthetics matter. A lot.


Is it better than someone cutting together pre-recorded samples and calling it a "soundtrack"? Yes, but the soundtrack producer's production quality is much better than mine, and production quality is undeniably of the essence.


Is my music better than that of my atonal "colleagues" who live off government grants, especially those who are actively and aggressively defrauding the public? Undoubtedly – but I compare myself to other musicians, not to people LARPing as composers. Also, as much as I may disdain them... they tend to be able to effectively self-promote and network – which I am not. I'm not lamenting this – schmoozing holds little interest to me, since I don't wish to be famous – but I have to give credit where credit is due.


And relatedly...

3) "Your worst is still better than many other composers' best."


This is the objection that cuts the most. Should I be happy that there is so much mediocrity around, and simply add my own to that abominable catalogue? I don't take pleasure in others' incompetence (beware of anyone who does!), and I find it even more intolerable in myself.


So, what's next?


While professional composers in my maternal hometown of Vienna are often told that our sole purpose is to spread the political agenda du jour, I still hold the view that our duty is to create something that uplifts humanity, something that "exalts the soul", as Rachmaninov put it. As luck would have it, my paternal hometown of Paris generally agrees. If it can be done anywhere, it will be here.

Writer's pictureR. Furano

As you may have read on social media, I have recently decided to remove my albums from all streaming platforms. The short answer as to why is: I realised they weren't any good. In truth, I was unhappy with them from day one, and I only released them because well, they were at hand at the time, and some people liked them...


A couple of months ago, I became fully conscious of my sensory perception of music – which is visual more than anything else – and while I've always been able to immediately spot irregularities in music, I suddenly began to see the mistakes in everything, with much greater acuity, even in works I had previously loved.


As for my own music – the verdict is even worse, to the point where the flaws almost always outweigh the charms. These recent insights have now pushed me to a point where I feel I can no longer leave this music online; because every minute someone listens to those inferior concoctions is a minute they're not listening to a great recording of Dussek, Hummel, Sacchini... composers who are almost forgotten nowadays and whose works certainly deserve the attention more than my shoddy efforts.


I suppose this is good news for anyone who's ever bought a digital and especially a physical copy of Piano Sonata No. 3 and Fool's Gold. Congratulations, you own a rare edition now.


There's good news, I hope, for anyone else who enjoys my music, too. As painful as it is to look at nearly 500 works and not find a single one worth the paper it's written on, it isn't devastating. After all, I still have time. And I can still make something better.


— R. F.

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