From Bach to Iraq

[Guest guest]

Art for the masses: war for asses

By Armando Iannucci

(Filed: 22/12/2005)

 

Well, this is the last one of these columns, so I'd like to sign off by

leaping from the sublime to the ridiculous in one fell swoop. To be more

precise, I'm going from Bach to Iraq.

 

You may have caught some Bach recently if you have been listening to

Radio 3. They're broadcasting the complete surviving works, round the

clock, over 10 days. There's a few more days to go: I really advise you

to turn it on now, unless you're allergic to perfect, sincere, playful

beauty.

 

What's been amazing has been the response from the listeners, many of

them complaining they can't tear themselves away from the radio, or

leave the house, or feed the dog, or go to sleep.

 

In the short term, this might be a bad thing, as a basically nice

stratum of British society collectively turns into a community of

anti-social zombies.

 

In the long term, however, it will do us all a lot of good, not just

because it might re-acquaint us with one of the foremost contributors to

human decency that our species has ever produced, but because it tells

us that we needn't be afraid of offering unadulterated art to the masses.

 

Too often we forget the basics in art; we feel we have to act

knowledgeable, bone up on background, pretend we know more than we do,

before we can even begin to read, look at or listen to anything

presented to us as culture.

 

Interpretation has grown into an industry, and very often our experience

of culture is filtered through the opinion of someone else, whether it's

a reviewer in a weekend supplement or a bloke behind you on the bus.

 

With so much cultural output these days, we're pressurised into turning

to the quality police to tell us what's good and what's a waste of time.

 

A lot of their work probably does us a great service, but what can get

lost is that special sensation that goes off inside us whenever we

encounter something unknown for the very first time and have no set of

criteria or list of rules by which to measure it other than the feeling

of what it does to us.

 

I sense that we're so used to sophisticated interpretation that we're

now hungry for the basics once again. So hungry, in fact, we'll drop

everything and act completely out of character if we chance to encounter

it.

 

That's why it comes as no surprise that the Bach project on Radio 3 is

stopping people in their tracks.

 

I have had a fun time writing on these pages and have appreciated the

generous space provided for differences of opinion. I've exercised this

fully over the invasion of Iraq, a momentous folly that still makes me

angry.

 

But I find now that my opinion differs from those who opposed the war

and who argue we should leave Iraq as swiftly as possible.

 

I tend to think that, if you start a fire, you should be made to hang

around until you've repaired the damage and paid for it.

 

That was what was so tragic about Tony Blair's bloody-mindedness; his

folly was to think that war has a beginning, middle and end, and that we

can always draw a line and move on. He would make a terrible historian.

 

Supporters of the invasion of Iraq would like to portray those of us who

opposed it from the start as a pack of self-righteous moralists now

smiling inwardly at the terrible mess it's causing.

 

Far from it; the mess only makes sadder something that was tragic to

start with. One value judgment I'm prepared to make, though, is this: if

you were in favour at the start, but have changed your mind since, then

that's understandable.

 

If, however, you still believe it was a good thing, then, unfortunately,

you're a fool.

 

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