In a tumultuous year in my life, I've found something to anchor me that has done the trick for many a year: music.
I started out 2026 with an ambitious goal of broadening my knowledge of classical music. I've had an appreciation for classical ever since I was a kid, but I never ventured too far away from the mainstream. Beethoven's symphonies, Bach's D-minor Toccata and Fugue, Bolero, Carmina Burana... the stuff most people know. I'd dipped my toes into Bartók mainly because King Crimson's Robert Fripp had cited him as an influence. Likewise, I knew of Stravinsky from Yes. I picked up some Copland, Mussorgsky, and Ginastera from Emerson, Lake, & Palmer, and later The Planets from the Eighties one-off Emerson, Lake, & Powell. Somehow I'd also found my way to Shostakovich. But that was pretty much it.
So I decided this year to binge-listen to as many symphonies as I could, from as many composers as I could. My goal was to work through the big names whose works made up the standard repertoire and branch out from there.
Well, thanks to helpful discussions with Claude and lots of distractions from YouTube's algorithm, I quickly discovered more composers and compositions than I could keep up with. I did my best to balance the big names with the intriguing side discoveries, and more often than not, the side discoveries won out -- not because of any desire to be contrary, which, admittedly, is often a driving factor for me, but just because I realized how many unappreciated hidden gems there were in the classical world.
Essentially, what happens in classical is the same as what happens everywhere else: The gatekeepers coalesce around a few big names and curate the pieces they decide are worthy of attention. If your local classic-rock station says it's going to play some Kansas, you know you're going to hear one of three titles from the band's vast catalog: "Dust in the Wind," "Carry On Wayward Son," or "Point of Know Return," as if those are the only songs Kansas ever made. Likewise, the people who set the programs for your local orchestras are going to pack their seasons with musical selections guaranteed to put butts in the seats. Who's going to take a gamble on, say, Anton Rubinstein when Beethoven's Fifth or the music of Star Wars is a sure ticket-seller?
So if you want to discover anything beyond the mainstream, you have to put in the hard work to find it. The good news is, we do have useful algorithms that pick up on the pieces you spend time with, and helpful AI bots that can direct you toward artists that may resonate with you based on common threads among the things you're liking and disliking. (Just be mindful of AI hallucinations. Claude and GPT have more than once sent me looking for things that don't actually exist.)
Case in point: One of my favorite discoveries this year has been Ralph Vaughan Williams. If you've heard the name, chances are you think of Vaughan Williams as that English guy who wrote some light, and ultimately inconsequential, pastoral music. "The Lark Ascending" is his "Dust in the Wind": It's a pretty violin piece that regularly ranks among Britain's most beloved musical works. And yet it barely scratches the surface of who Vaughan Williams was as a composer. His chamber works are deeply melodic. His piano concerto is one of a kind, and fiendishly complex. And his sixth symphony pummels you one moment and leaves you awash in desolation the next. But it's the kind of material you'd never find if you only ever touched on his "greatest hits." Digging deep quite often yields incredible treasures.
So maybe I'll spend some time using this space to record my thoughts as my musical discoveries continue to unfold. Maybe it'll encourage someone else to dig and discover.
The thing to remember, which is true for any artform you delve into, is that you don't need anyone's permission to like or dislike anything at all. If you happen to like a composer or a piece no one ever talks about, you don't need to justify your choice to anyone. Likewise, if you don't care for a piece that everyone else says you're supposed to like, you're not necessarily doing things wrong. Your tastes are your own. Case in point: I don't particularly care for Mozart. I respect his genius and understand why he's considered one of the greats. His music just doesn't ring my bell. And I'm not about to apologize for it.
I've found that I don't care much for Mahler or Bruckner either.
But the likes have far outweighed the dislikes, and I find new avenues to explore all the time. There's more music out there than I'll ever be able to listen to in my lifetime, and that's actually kind of a fun thought. What will find its way to my ears before my number's up? And what of those artists and pieces that I discover will find a place in my heart?
I treat every new piece like it's a blind box on a store shelf. I might adore what's inside, or I might not. But the thrill is in the discovery.
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