In Defense of Max Richter

I know I'm on thin ice here, but I just read Alex Ross's critique of Max Richter in The New Yorker – The Doleful Minimalism of Max Richter – with which I disagree.

I'll confess I'm not conversant with arpeggios, ostinatos, and glissandos, but I know Max Richter's music has often brought me to meaningful and thoughtful places. For Ross to describe it as "inoffensive, impassive, deferential, and anonymous" seems dismissive.

In the late 70s, I worked for the Dia Art Foundation at their performance space at 6 Harrison Street in Tribeca which was dedicated to the Fluxus oeuvre of LaMonte Young. Young would perform his signature, 5-hour-plus work The Well-Tuned Piano on the historic, high-ceilinged trading floor of the former New York Mercantile Exchange. There were no chairs. We would remove our socks and shoes, step in a shallow footbath and dry off, and then sit or lie down on the scatter of dozens of oriental rugs on the massive floor. Pensive? You bet. Hypnotic and dreamy too.

I was also listening to Brian Eno, Philip Glass, Steve Reich, and other minimalist and ambient musicians at that time. Erik Satie's Gymnopedies and Gnossiennes were also in the mix. All are referenced in Ross's article.

Here's one of Richter's more popular compositions – On the Nature of Daylight. It won't get your toes tapping but will get you thinking.