Epic FAIL

Please forgive the catch-phrase title, but really, the subject of the invective below deserves no greater thought or originality. One of the things I try to do from my perch up here is keep up with what's going on in the music scene in my native Canada. It used to be easy, what with radio broadcasts of Canadian concert music being plentiful, and the excellent music shows of the CBC easily streamable. Now, alas, the best shows are no more, with genial and self-effacing hosts like Sheila Rogers and Jürgen Goth put out to pasture in favor of programs of top-40 classical pap hosted by lightweight has-beens of the classical business, and broadcasts of new music are so thin on the ground as to be non-existent. Broadcasts of orchestral concerts are virtually no more.

But this story really takes the cake. Not the story itself, but what the it lacks. Malcom Forsyth, one of Canada's greatest living composers, was commissioned to write to an "iconically Canadian" work for chorus and orchestra. He was, I was dismayed to learn, diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last fall, surviving against all odds to complete the piece and attend the premiere in Ottawa. Forsyth, with the zeal perhaps only an immigrant can bring to the task of paying homage to his country, has been steadfastly singing the beauty of the Canadian landscape for decades in a series of well-crafted, probing, supremely accessible works. (Other such poets include another emigré, the late Harry Freedman, and our great native voice, R. Murray Schafer.) The work apparently sets that wonderful tear-jerker of a poem every Canadian child learns for Remembrance Day, "In Flanders Fields", a solemn memorial for the soldiers who died for our country, and the liberation of others.

This premiere has all the hallmarks of a major Canadian cultural event, with the exception of one conspicuous absence. Let me spell it out for you: national artist commissioned the National Arts Centre Orchestra to write a great tribute to the nation. Reading the story, I found myself desperate to hear it, hear what Forsyth had to say, his perspective on the piece, what effect his deteriorating health had on the music, his attitude toward the poetry, all of it. I wanted it documented for posterity.

So where in the name of Glenn Gould was our so-called "national" broadcaster? Why was the nation not permitted to hear this work? Why, when so much time, effort and pain has gone into bringing this music to life, is the witnessing of it restricted to a few thousand (maybe) people in Ottawa and Edmonton? Why are the people who fund your organization not allowed to hear what will likely be the last song of one of our senior composers? What about this event failed to meet the criteria of your mandate (cf. clause v.)? What abject failure of vision, integrity and patriotism led to the decision not to pick up this event for broadcast in any form, television, radio or internet, so that the people it pays tribute to could hear it (beyond this meager coverage)?

Even from the most amoral, heartless, capitalist perspective that holds sway in the cultural offices of the CBC these days, the marketing materials for this one bloody well write themselves. Dying composer's final work, a vast hymn to his adopted country, completed against time and medical prognosis, with the creator in attendance? The second half of the concert even featured Beethoven's 9th symphony, in case you were wondering what the catch was. Come on! An idiot could sell that. So why didn't you?

Hang your heads in shame, CBC. Continue down this road, and I may find myself agreeing with the heinous government that's trying to kill you. Continue to fail us again and again in the exercise of your duty to be the voice of the people, and you'll deserve no better.