Earlier this year, I reviewed Antonín Dvořák’s last three symphonies a few times, listening consecutively over an evening or afternoon. Last month, I planned to spend some time with the Vaughan-Williams large-scale output, listening to one through nine. I got through all of them, minus the Antarctic music–the one I was most familiar with.
I think the method has some merit, though I can’t imagine myself reading 22 novels by the same author in one year. I just don’t like any author enough to do that.
As for composers, perhaps I would find some understanding in the giants of Central Europe others seem to adore so much. Mozart, for example, all sounds the same to me. Certainly not bad music, but not fascinating to me. I don’t know why. I feel largely the same about the B’s. It socks some people, especially my musical friends. Loving Bach or Mozart strikes me like being a fanboy or girl of Manchester United or the New York Yankees. Success, skill, and all: yes, certainly. But humanly interesting? Not so much.
Any readers here take the opportunity to carve out a large chunk of time to read or listen to a substantial portion of an artist’s work?