Greg Stepanich

Beethoven, king of the downloads

British commentators are amazed by the results of a recent experiment in which complete Beethoven symphonies were available for free download from the BBC. Listeners from around the world downloaded these canonical works a total of nearly 1.4 million times, according to this piece from The Guardian.

That's a substantial amount, and far more than the pop tunes being downloaded at the same time (which aren't free as there are still copyrights in effect). As I see it, the music being free had much to do with it (one of the comments attached to the article talks about a listener pleased to be getting something else from the license fee Britons have to pay to fund the BBC), but that should not blind us to the reality that there were plenty of people out there curious enough about this music to hear for themselves what it's all about.

I have long maintained that classical music, despite what the doomsayers tell us, and despite the obvious decline of the old high-culture aesthetic that kept it in the forefront of more consciousnesses than at present, is music first and foremost, and therefore cannot fail to appeal to all kinds of ears. I personally subscribe to the old saw that there are only two kinds of music in the world, good and bad, and that the good stuff, be it Beethoven's First Symphony or Blue Moon of Kentucky, is art.

All you have to do is open your ears, mind and heart, and you might find Beethoven showing up on your playlist.

But that's an old point. The new one to be made here is the one about technology.

The Guardian piece quotes Chaz Jenkins, head of LSO Live, as saying that "downloads are the future for classical music," and I think he's right. For a lot of people, the stuffy trappings of the old classical music culture, as well as the idea that it's old and historical, are simply too intimidating. That's why someone who might find himself or herself fearing the ridicule of friends and family too much to venture out to a concert can still feed his or her inner classical jones with a furtive symphony download in the middle of the night.

"Honey! What the heck are you doing in there? Come to bed!"

"Just a minute — uh, just checking my last e-mail! Come on, Ludwig, hurry up!" Meanwhile, another masterwork from the ages, and from our common heritage, rolls onto a chip, there to feed the mind, heart or just the feet, at a more propitious time.

The download question raises important questions about the survivability of traditional music industry practices, and as I've mentioned in a previous entry, there needs to be some sort of general Internet tax or BBC-style license fee in order to make sure living writers get their royalties, and that performers of less commercial music can continue to pursue the kind of art at which they excel. I, for one, would be happy to pay it.

In any case, I find this latest bit of news cheering, even more so because it appears to support my unshakable belief in the strength of music as a form of communication, and my never-ending surprise at what people will listen to, if given the chance.