A Classic Case of Popularity Winning Out

There were no surprises this year in the classical Grammy awards. The non-pop category received fleeting token recognition, as usual, from the rock ‘n’ schlock-oriented academy.

The winning choices in this vaunted popularity contest have always tended to be conservative. They have been predicated, no doubt, on the visibility factor (a k a hype quotient) of the famous artists nominated. If the voters have erred--perish the ignoble thought--they always have done so on the side of easy respectability.

This phenomenon involves instant recognition of the sure-fire repertory at hand as well as instant recognition of household-name performers. Long-term survival in the profession helps too.

Given the inevitable push-button responses, a record documenting an over-exposed trip to the Soviet Union by a pixieish, eminently photogenic Vladimir Horowitz transcends strict musical considerations. It virtually assures the mannered, egomaniacal, sometimes genial octogenarian his 21st and 22nd Grammys, plus a special-merit award and an obligatory standing ovation. Never underestimate the sentimentality factor in the industry.

A similar gut-reaction works in favor of a good old conductor such as Sir Georg Solti. At 75, he mustered yet another recording of the good old Beethoven Ninth with the good old Chicago Symphony. How could the result fail to win Solti his 26th statuette?

The only recent exceptions to the popularity-contest mechanism have involved a shady loophole in the system that permitted, even encouraged, bloc voting. Remember the year when a merely competent Robert Shaw and a decent but hardly awe-inspiring Atlanta Symphony won in just about every category except Best Traditional Blues Recording? For the time being at least, that embarrassing crisis of credibility seems to have gone the way of the 78-r.p.m. shellac disc.

In the Best Classical Album race, Horowitz had little serious competition. John Adams’ “The Chairman Dances” may be trendy, but it isn’t that trendy. Relatively obscure entries by Shaw and Leonard Slatkin represented wishful thinking.

Solti’s conquest in the Best Orchestral Recording division documented distrust for Berg, Schoenberg and Webern as conducted by James Levine in Berlin. Slatkin and Charles Dutoit’s offerings had to be regarded as distant dark-horse efforts. The only serious contender, no doubt, would have been good old Lenny Bernstein, but his entry, a Copland set, could hardly exert the appeal of Beethoven.

When it came to opera, the academy turned mildly esoteric, giving the prestigious nod to Levine’s recording of “Ariadne auf Naxos.” The serious competition, it should be noted, may have cancelled itself out with the overlapping Mozart of Solti (“Entfuhrung”), Karajan (“Don Giovanni”) and Muti (“Figaro”). Chailly’s “Macbeth” sound track must have gotten on the ballot for its joke appeal.

Although there were a number of more distinguished, even more esoteric entries in the choral category, Robert Shaw obviously won the nostalgia vote with his Hindemith record. When it came to Best Instrumental Soloist (with orchestra), Itzhak Perlman had to be the obvious choice over Elmar Oliveira, Dale Clevenger and Murray Perahia, though a crossover virtuoso, Wynton Marsalis, may have given the super-popular violinist a run for some of his money.

The stellar combination of Perlman, Lynn Harrell and Vladimir Ashkenazy probably triumphed easily in the chamber-music category. Their vehicle, after all, was hum-along Beethoven. Jean-Pierre Rampal, Isaac Stern and Mstislav Rostropovich, likely runners-up, had to be content with obscure Mozart.

Kathleen Battle, riding the crest of popularity (and participating in four of the five nominated opera recordings), took the best vocal-soloist laurel for her exquisite lieder recital in Salzburg. Her competition ranged from Marni Nixon singing Copland with the Pacific Symphony (hardly a threat) to Jessye Norman singing Strauss (a serious threat).

The closest thing to an upset involved the Best Contemporary Composition. Logic would have given this award to the ultra with-it Adams. No one expected much of a showing for the relatively strenuous output of Milton Babbit, Sir Michael Tippett, Joseph Schwantner or Roger Sessions. Still, the winner--Krzysztof Penderecki (for his 2nd Cello Concerto)--represents something of a triumph of sophistication. One wonders how many academy members actually voted for him.