The Concept of “Genius”
We hear the term “genius” thrown around in the classroom, in lessons and ensembles, and in the professional world. We see it reflected in curriculum, offered electives, literature, and concert programs, both in and out of university settings. I have been fascinated by the concept of genius in music since I attended the Society of Music Theory conference in November 2020. A panel, discussing the question of “who is allowed to be a genius,” spoke of queer theory, autistic people who are good at music, and the lingering and ongoing effects of exclusion. In order for there to be a distinction between dignified, refined and professional art music, there has to be music that does not make the cut; the “other” forms a sound, a face and a skin color as the concept of genius ascends.
Performers and scholars alike are responsible for upholding the idea of genius. Established composers are praised by their constant relevance in performance halls and classrooms. Prominent performers, both of past and present, transcend time through recordings and become a standard unit of measurement for excellence. Music critics and researchers legitimize (or delegitimize) music through their theories, under the guise of “cleaning up classical music.” Gatekeeping is a necessary part of the field, and with that, the exhortation of superior music. After all, if we simply let all music stand as acceptable on its own merits, allow every interpretation to be valid, then what will happen to the pure, pristine canon? If we let just anyone into the canon for the sake of “diversity,” what will happen to the legacy of Beethoven? As musicologist Karol Berger wrote:
“ If we do not recover and exercise our capacity for judgement, we shall suffocate under the mountains of trash that, worse than carbon dioxide, pollute our cultural environment.”
If a composer or performer was truly extraordinary, they would be able to transcend their “otherness,” and they would not have to fight for a spot in the canon; naturally, they would be a genius, too.
Needless to say, this is a rather limiting way to think about, discuss, and perform music. It only allows for certain (white) voices to be heard, while other voices are tokenized in the conversation. This line of thinking also takes a certain amount of agency away from the modern day performer and scholar. By constantly requiring musicians to harken back to old styles of performance and scholarship, we in turn mimic old ways of thinking, excusing musicians of yore of their prejudiced worldviews and actions because we insist that their contributions to music outweigh their crimes against humanity. Our obsession with fantasizing about “what the composer would have wanted,” as well as the praise and preservation of the score, play a huge role in the perpetuation of genius. Another key element of this harmful rhetoric is this insidious language whiteness. Music theorist Philip Ewell remarked in his 2020 blog post:
“The white racial frame has created many euphemisms for “white” and “whiteness.” This tracks the general avoidance of racial terminology that race scholars often cite. In addition to “master” and its derivatives, here are some other common euphemisms for white and whiteness in music theory’s white racial frame: authentic, canonic, civilized, classic(s), conventional, core (“core” requirement), European, function (“functional” tonality), fundamental, genius, German (“German” language requirement), great (“great” works), maestro, opus (magnum “opus”), piano (“piano” proficiency, skills), seminal, sophisticated, titan(ic), towering, traditional, and western.”
What happens to young students in the classroom who are introduced to the concept of genius? If you happen to be a white, cisgender, straight man, you may look at the demographics of classical music and come to the conclusion that you are destined for great things because you were “struck by God,” similar to Mozart and Bach. If you are outside of that demographic, you may find your niche in classical music and have hopes of being “the Black/female/queer composer of the 21st century,” but nothing more. Or perhaps, you may decide that classical music simply isn’t for you, the way it “hasn’t” been for women, people of color, and the LGBTQIA+ community for centuries. That is to say, you were not “struck” with white maleness.
How can the subtle and yet violent oppression of genius even begin to be remedied? My mind instantly goes to the idea of canon; genius is cemented by the fixed nature of the classical music canon. The implication that adding a new face to the canon means that it threatens the legitimacy of white art music is extremely harmful, to say the least. We have a lot to learn from our popular counterparts. Notice how the popular canon expands and shifts, with new artists contributing every year, diverse pockets developing as music history stretches, and older legacies staying intact. Adding someone new to the popular canon doesn’t mean someone from the 20th century is automatically erased; it means that the popular canon becomes more diverse and complex, as does our understanding of the intersection of identity and music.
In addition to challenging the way we think about canon, many changes need to happen in the classroom in order to abolish the idea of genius. We can start (in my humble opinion) by abolishing the use of the word altogether; a deep love, appreciation and respect for a composer and their works does not inherently have to go hand in hand with praise. It is the same way you think about (but do not praise) an extremely skilled doctor; they are someone who is above average at their job. We only praise musicians because the act of participating in music itself feels wondrous and mystical; it is spiritual, otherworldly. It is tied to fame and the monetization of fame, in a way that being a skilled doctor is not. The praise of music as its own being can be separated from the praise of a musician. In doing so, we will encourage students not to chase fame, but to chase their own liberation and the liberation of others through music, in whatever way that means for them.
