MUSIC : Composer Childs, Who Did It His Way, to Talk in Laguna

In the great American tradition of rugged individualism, Barney Childs started writing music simply because he wanted to. He had no teacher, so he taught himself.

“I wanted to fool around,” he said in a recent interview from the University of Redlands, where he has taught since 1971. “Somebody gave me a recording of Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony when I was 15. It made interesting sounds. . . .

“The other thing was when I was working as assistant in the library (in his native Spokane, Wash.) and had to catalogue stuff, and that included all the New Music Quarterly issues with all these composers--(Carl) Ruggles, (Charles) Ives, others, apparently doing all these exciting things.

“I listened to the New Music Quarterly records. I thought, ‘How do you go about doing this?’ I looked at scores, tried to write some pieces, stumblingly at first. I finally got one finished that I thought was worth saving.”

And so began a distinguished career for the composer, who will speak on his music tonight at 7:30 at the Laguna Art Museum. Now 63, Childs (who holds degrees in literature from Oxford, earned as a Rhodes scholar, and from Stanford) has written more than 170 works, has co-edited a music journal and has held office in national music associations.

Childs said he “largely didn’t study with anybody until my late 20s” when, working on a doctorate at Stanford, he decided to take some music courses. After four years of study, he won a scholarship to a summer music institute at Tanglewood, Mass.

“Tanglewood was great,” he recalled, “a world in which one could participate full time in music--playing, writing, singing, composing. That was something I really envied. . . .”

He went on to study, briefly, with Aaron Copland, Leonard Ratner, Carlos Chavez and Elliott Carter. “That was the extent of my study,” he said. “I learned the hard way.”

Unlike many who had been trained--and forced to conform to established standards--from a very young age, Childs proved unusually self-reliant. He never suffered from “the whole European mystique--the suffering artist and the artist racked by problems, (Karlheinz) Stockhausen being an excellent example,” he said. “I met him a few times. He was really bowed down by being Mr. Avant-Garde, at the cutting edge of everything, and continuing the great tradition of German Music, of which he was the latest and greatest exponent.

“Those are burdens taken on voluntarily. I never had that problem. And a lot of composers I know, notably in America and also in England, don’t have the problem, either. . . . You have to trust yourself.

“I used to worry about form,” he continued, “until I discovered one happy day that I wasn’t ever going to be called to account for everything I had written. No one was going to come out of the heavens, point a finger at me and ask, ‘Where did you get that B-flat!’ It was really a liberating thing. I could assemble what I chose. . . . Form is nothing more than an extension of content.”

He continues to write independently of the ebbs and flows of musical fashions and fads. And he has accepted the fact that most audiences are turned off by contemporary music.

“People think music ought to speak to them, ought to stir something inside,” he said. “That probably can be put into a one-word reaction--Wow! Are they wowed? This raises the question: What is the function of music? People still feel that (contemporary) music is not the kind of thing they accept as music. They have no emotional response except a vague distaste. They are not moved then as they are accustomed to. . . .”

But “if people don’t want to listen to your music, that is their prerogative,” he added. “My job is to write the music, to give it as good a shot as possible. . . . If I were alone on a desert island, I would still write music. I can’t not do it. But I have no sense of Romantic Angst about it. It’s fun to do and it’s hard work. . . .”

Actually, Childs admits, he has problems with some modern music himself.

“I like less and less contemporary music,” he said. “I’m probably getting to be a curmudgeon in my old age. I will attend new music conferences and hear 100 pieces. Maybe two sound like, ‘Wow, this is exciting work.’ I suppose when I was more youthful and green, I found more things I liked. When you’re 63, everybody is younger, I guess, except Copland,” he laughed.

But he does not feel that this is a poor age for music. “Gosh no. More people are writing more music. There are more commissions and more performances. There are just so many more composers that the gravy is spread as thin as it’s ever been. This is a burgeoning period, I tell my students. You’re stepping into a new world, kicked along by computer synthesis. . . .”

He has little tolerance for composers who complain that they can’t get their works performed. “Sour grapes,” he said. “If you write the right pieces, you can get them performed. I don’t tell anyone to write another string quartet or another Great American piano sonata. There is very little bass clarinet literature. If someone wants a trumpet trio, write one. Write a saxophone quartet and try to write a good one and you will get performances. This will lead to other performances.

“We say people should be exposed to music, which sounds sadly like exposure to radiation. We do this a lot, we academical folk. We say, kids need to clean out their ears. Well, we’ve been trying. You’d think somebody would have found a way to do it after all this time, if there were a way. I think we’re just going to play to small audiences and fans.”

But regardless of how many people hear a piece, Childs prefers strong reaction to lukewarm acceptance. He recalled with zest a London critic who described his Trio for Clarinet, Cello and Piano (1972) as “beastly, nightmarish (and) pretentious.”

“At least, he didn’t say, ‘It’s interesting ,’ ” Childs laughed.

Childs feels that talks, such as the Laguna series, are important because a composer can “provide an insight to the interested listener. It’s always important when people voluntarily come out to hear a composer,” he said. “A lot of people are surprised to discover that composers are not the kind of figures they thought they might be. They’re fairly good guys and ordinary people. . . . It’s important that such a series like this establishes itself and, hopefully, flourishes.”

Barney Childs will talk about his music today at 7:30 p.m. at the Laguna Art Museum, 307 Cliff Drive, Laguna Beach. Childs’ talk will be the second of six Contemporary Composers lectures being co-sponsored by the museum and UC Irvine. Tickets: $6, general; $4, seniors and museum members. Seating is limited. Information: (714) 494-8971.