I am often asked to share my opinion on contemporary piano music by “minimalist” or “new wave” Italian composer-performers like Ludovico Einaudi, Giovanni Allevi and (more recently) Luca D’Alberto. My short answer usually goes something like this: I find their music pleasing for about 1 minute, after which it gets boring. I understand why some people may find such an answer to be condescending or demeaning; they probably enjoy listening to those artists during their commute, their morning run, or as they go along any number of daily activities. They do not require any significant development or narrative flow in that listening context. The music provides a pleasant, easily predictable background to their routine activities. I listen to music in a very different way. If I want some ambient music, I usually turn on the radio and am perfectly content with the latest pop tracks, or a playlist of Italian singer-songwriters from the last 40 years. Classical music, however (and most of these artists call themselves classical composers), requires a different kind of engagement. It is supposed to transcend a specific time and age and aim for immortality. Big words, I know, but I stand by them. It is all about the quality of musical ideas + their development: ingenuity + labor. Repetition is not a new concept in music, and great composers have always been able to work with extremely simple ideas (remember Beethoven’s favorite fruit? “Ba-na-na-naaaa!”) Their greatness, however, did not come from simplicity and repetition alone. “Development” is a key concept in music, and it can make or break the “classical” aspirations of any creator. 

The rules behind the development of even the simplest tune are pretty straightforward; any counterpoint student could give plenty of examples and explain how themes are modified, broken down and recombined over time. It is harder to pinpoint the defining features of a masterwork, however, because a great composer is able to deploy the same old tricks with unexpected and sometimes shocking results. It is all about the turn of a phrase, the sequence in which certain elements are presented; the subtle shifting of tonal centers (modulations) and, maybe most importantly, the narrative arc of the piece. I still think that a great piece of music, like a great novel, needs an organic narrative flow in order to work properly. Even if it is a short piece, if it ends right where it started, without any significant encounters along the way, it just doesn’t make sense. If minimalism had a narrative arc, I could probably tolerate it. One does not even need a ton of content; Ravel’s Bolero evolves not by introducing new thematic material, but by changing texture and adding new instruments all throughout, building up to a grandiose and catastrophic ending (the process was nicely animated in Disney’s “Fantasia,” by the way). 

When the composer’s craft is lacking, the sound engineer comes in. That is another defining feature of modern “minimalist” music. There is a constant overuse of digital effects that serve the sole purpose of giving more depth and “ambience” to music that would otherwise sound pretty bland. By contrast, you can play Bach on literally any instrument (some people even try to play it with non-instruments, like glasses, marbles, and wooden slides); his genius will reach out to you no matter what. Bach was a great admirer of an Italian composer, Antonio Vivaldi: in many ways, Vivaldi’s music can be considered extremely simple (especially by Bach’s standards); in his collection of string concertos, “Il cimento dell’armonia e dell’invenzione” (The Contest Between Harmony and Invention), Vivaldi set forth a splendid example of how ingenuity (invenzione) and craft (armonia) could be combined in the most efficient way possible. Bach took the lesson to heart; his own music avoided the pedantic excesses that plagued many of his contemporaries by adopting the “Italian style” learned from Vivaldi, Marcello, Lotti and other Italians.

While there is no intrinsic evil in listening to minimalist piano music, I wish we would stop calling it “classical.” It is much closer to cinematic soundtracks, in a very general sense since it does not support any specific video content. Maybe it is an attempt to sooth our noisy, busy lives, in a “zen” sort of way. I also hope we can still preserve the attention span that is required to enjoy true classical music, contemporary or otherwise. You may start by listening to my solo piano music: try “Waves,” for example, available on all streaming platforms! :)