In doctor’s waiting-rooms, a decade or two ago, the tedium would have been relieved with quiet background music: sentimental songs from Broadway, popular classics like Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. Nowadays, however, one hears only the thudding, mechanical music favoured by the young. Their cowed elders bear it without protest: faute de mieux it has become their music too.
The rupture is not likely to be repaired. The bad drives out the good: what they call “classical” music is simply no longer cultural currency. Is there anything of interest to be said of the development, or must one just grouse about it under one’s breath?
-- From Diary of a Bad Year, by J.M. Coetzee –
Have a great Monday!