The Fredösphere

Virgil Thomson was right:  Ruggles beats Ives.

I'm just now discovering Sun-treader, although it is widely referred to as Ruggles' magnum opus.  Yow.  The opening shout is a brassy leap upward of a minor ninth.  (Such a yummy interval!)  Y'all know I have no patience for gratuitous weirdness (except my own, of course) so if I'm praising this piece, you know it has to be good.  Or I'm messed up.  Or both.

Aworks puts Sun-treader in its context.  He also discusses this business of finding masterpieces that can be "salvaged" among the "wreckage" of 20th century music.  (He calls this the conventional narrative; I don't think he is expressing his own view.)  My own inconsistency really bugs me:  when I find myself getting passionate over a tonality-free zone like Sun-treader, or feeling sympathetic to some of Messiaen's thorny pieces, I wonder if I really don't understand the true reason why I like what I like.  Clearly, I have no business pretending to be a critic, if I can't separate my preferences from my judgments.

I think I know what's going on here:  the title grabbed me and made me want to like it.  The heightened attention got me over my usual hurdle.  I heard the piece play with a picture of some kind of super being, a lonely and magisterial presence, something from the imagination of Francois Schuiten.  With two words, Ruggles stirred emotions that I search for in science fiction -- usually, with disappointment.

Bonus Track:  Ruggles made me think of The Rutles, a Beatles parody.  I googled a bit, clicked a bit, and all of a sudden, I found Beats!!!!  Something to savor on a slow Friday afternoon.   You're welcome!