46 Part I: Origins‘musical comfort’. On the other side, we can find the rare but significant
exceptional instances of an unconventional, radically modern style of
composition. What such composers have in common is the abandonment
of any harmonic sequence. This avant-garde music – we are speaking
here of Schoenberg, Hindemith, Bartók, Jarnach, Krenek, etc. – con-
vinces by virtue of the consistency of its structuring principles which
enable ‘its form to conquer time’.^72 Adorno frequently contrasts this
rational mode of construction with ‘the merely organic work of art that
deludes the blind soul.’^73
Admittedly, Adorno refused to applaud music that thought itself
modern or up to date just because it used different rhythms or new
motivic material. ‘Faith in constant artistic progress may be evaporating
today even in the minds of people who have a right to think of them-
selves as the champions of progress against the diehard traditionalists.’^74
While he placed himself unequivocally on the side of the avant-garde,
he was sensitive to the inconsistencies of musical modernity. He at-
tempted to expose these inconsistencies, just as he was determined to
prove that simply to continue the tradition would inexorably lead to the
blind alley of classicism, works of art as museum pieces. He demon-
strated that the two trends went hand in hand in the review of a concert
in August 1923 in which he discussed Stravinsky, a composer towards
whom he developed a polemical, negative view from this time onwards.
There had been a performance in Frankfurt of The Soldier’s Tale, which
Adorno tore to pieces, just as he would condemn other works by the
same composer at the Stravinsky festival two years later. In Adorno’s
view, Stravinsky was trying to go beyond traditional musical form.
But his attempts did not lead to fully constructed forms that offered a
convincing alternative.
The old forms have been destroyed; the formless soul refreshes
himself amidst the ruins. Vive Stravinsky! Vive Dada! He has torn
down the roof, now the rain pours in on his bald pate. This modern-
ity does not go beyond the externals of the Paris artists’ ball, a
cigarette-filled atmosphere and bogeyman of the middle classes.
It will serve as a dismal Bohemian prank; but, taken seriously, it is
no more than a musical version of civilized literature, as distinct
from true art.^75The young critic did not mince his words when making public state-
ments about the value of internationally acclaimed composers and
virtuosos. He likewise refused to allow himself to be overimpressed by
the bustling activity of Frankfurt’s musical life, of which he had by now
become an integral part. In a concert review of December 1924, he
stated bluntly that there was little good to be said about Frankfurt
musical life, that chamber music in particular was in a poor way, and
that the Opera had sunk to the level of a medium-size provincial stage