Hackneyed expressions often take on a kind of immortality in direct proportion to their lack of logic. The more inane they are, the stronger is their grip, since they form a ready excuse for dullards. Yet, few among the many hamper the progress of music more than that unimaginative attempt to cover a lack of programing gumption: “Music that has stood the test of time.”

The phrase is not only vile, it’s ridiculous on its face. How can a piece of music be said to fail the test of time when it is rarely or never programmed? A vast storehouse of great music has been mothballed simply because musicians couldn’t be bothered to provide exposure.

Quickly now: see how many tunes you can hum from a Haydn symphony or a Szymanowski choral work. When was the last time you heard a live performance of a Christian Bach or Boccherini symphony? A Weber opera or a Schumann lieder cycle? Or closer to home, how about 19th Century American music, or 20th Century music from Canada and Latin America? Ah’m here to tell you folks, honest to Betsy there’s gold in them thar pages.

Particularly annoying is the number of pieces with a proven track record of popular appeal that are shunned without cause. Borodin’s Second Symphony is a brilliant and wildly individual work. The same holds true for Liszt’s sensational “Faust” Symphony, a major masterpiece which, among other things, opens with what I believe was the first use of a 12-note theme.

Even a sure-fire hit like Roy Harris’s Third Symphony has been relegated to limbo. I remember Leonard Bernstein saying that whenever he took the New York Philharmonic on tour, he could always count on the Harris Third creating a sensation, “no matter how inexperienced the audience.” The work’s importance can be measured in part by the major conductors and orchestras who recorded it: Koussevitzky and the Boston Symphony first; Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic twice; plus the best one, Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra. Observing centennials has become something of a fad, but Harris’s centennial in 1999 slipped below the waves with nary a murmur. So much for image.

Yet image is always a problem and many composers suffer unjustly therefore. The mere appearance of Hugo Wolf, Roussel, or Schoenberg on a program is enough to paralyze most box offices. In Wolf’s case there’s the canard that his music is forever dull and grim whereas, in truth, he wrote many of the most ironic and comic songs in existence. And if you want to hear a howler, I recommend a sampling of Schoenberg’s Three Satires, Opus 28 — especially The New Classicism, that mini-cantata sending up the composer himself. “I was Classic”, sings a soloist (echoed by a throbbing choral “Classic”), “then one morning I arose, Modern,” and the chorus breaks into an atonal fugue: “This is the new style; let the notes fall where’er they will. ”

Perhaps the strangest of all are fashion fads. For a time, back in the 1960s and ‘70s, everyone was programming Charles Ives and Anton Webern. Then it was Erik Satie’s turn. None of them deserves such excessive exposure, but they also don’t deserve to languish in limbo simply for having been played too often.

The same can happen to so-called Top 40 pieces. About ten popular works have grown difficult for me to sit through. Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition tops the list, followed closely by Ravel’s Bolero, Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto and the omnipresent Vivaldi Four Seasons. They all could stand a sabbatical — and Mahler’s symphonies are fast approaching that status. All of these represent fine music beaten into mere cliche by over-exposure.

Still, a piece may fade and then regain favor after a time. That almost defines great music: it’s wrinkle-free. I admit that I can again find enjoyment in all the Beethoven symphonies, Liszt’s Les Preludes and (brace yourself) Tchaikovsky’s “1812” Overture. That was not the case ten years ago.

The most unlikely of fads is the current rage for the music of Anton Bruckner. I’ve been a fan since my mid-teens: one of the first recordings I ever owned was an old RCA issue of the Ninth Symphony. Finding him suddenly popular with audiences is, however, rather astounding; even Pierre Boulez has jumped on the bandwagon.

When I heard that the Napa Symphony had programmed a Bruckner mass a few seasons back, I asked how many had walked out on the performance. Orchestra manager Tom Illgen laughed and told me that it had been the major success of their season. Fortunately, I was seated at the time: the masses represent really hardcore Bruckner. To quote a great line from “The Lion in Winter”, “In a world where a carpenter can rise from the dead, anything is possible.”

Composers don’t always secure their own future. Some just write too much. There’s too much Chopin and Schumann piano music for us ever to grasp fully; too many Rossini operas; too many Hovhaness symphonies; and too much of everything by Milhaud. So performers tend to stick with a few well-known works rather than go digging for other gold.

My colleague Robert Commanday recently mentioned that he had heard Milhaud’s Harp Concerto and been surprised by its quality. He also lamented the unjust neglect of the composer’s Second Violin Concerto. All true! In just the Milhaud catalog, I’d love to hear his ballet score for Moses or see it danced. Unfortunately it was published as "Opus Americanum No. 2", which if off-putting. Poor titles do not help in the arts. But his terrific Symphonic Suite No. 2, “Protée” and the breezy “Le Carnaval d’Aix” deserve exposure, as they are masterpieces.

Another important figure, Luigi Dallapiccola (1904-1975), was a truly major composer of incredible lyric appeal, albeit within his atonal style. But nearly everything he left us is vocal, typically with unusual instrumental chamber accompaniments, thus too large for chamber music concerts and too small for symphonic programs. He left three operas, one of which, Il Prigioniere (The Prisoner), was once staged by the San Francisco Opera years ago, but not since. There is a ballet, but like all Dallapiccola stage works it’s on the short side. There are very few symphonic works and those, of less than his best quality. He was Italian; the human voice was his forte. The Dallapiccola 2004 centennial will likely be ignored as was the Harris, which is a great pity.

What’s more difficult to understand is the amount of proven Romantic music which has been shelved. This situation is most acute in the concerto repertory, which seems to shrink constantly. Once-standard music such as the Vieuxtemps, Wieniawski, Glazunov, Saint-Saens and Lalo violin-orchestral works is gone, even though it had constituted the repertory for all major fiddlers.

And I won’t get started on the cello or piano situation. Even the piano-orchestral pieces of Ernest von Dohnanyi have fallen into disuse. Conductors no longer program the comic Variations on a Nursery Song, let alone the superior First Piano Concerto or his masterpiece, the orchestral Suite in F-sharp.

On the other hand, while the local scene may leave much to be desired, it’s far better than what’s encountered elsewhere. Viewing the dismal programming of the major East Coast, Midwest, and European orchestras, one must feel gratitude that the Bay Area has the inventive efforts of MTT and Kent Nagano. It’s not that any of us wants or expects concerts totally devoted to adventure, but one such piece per program seems little enough to expect. Coagulated repertoire can be dangerous to our cultural health. After all, stale bread can also be said to have stood the test of time, but only for so long.

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