Classical Roots of Pop Music: How Icons Were Shaped by the Classics

Among the intriguing revelations in the book is the fact that the BBC’s standard tape recording technology until the 1970s, the BTR-2, was derived from Nazi-era innovation. This technology, originally developed by EMI as the BTR-1, was modeled after a German “magnetophon” recorder that Adolf Hitler used for radio broadcasts.

This technological legacy also influenced musicians with a penchant for tinkering. Delia Derbyshire, a notable figure at the BBC Radiophonic Workshop who crafted the iconic Doctor Who theme, also inspired Paul McCartney’s tape loop experiments. Similarly, composer Steve Reich developed his unique method of phasing recorded phrases in and out of sync, a technique he later adapted for live performances.

Countless other innovations have emerged from modest settings. Bob Moog, an engineer with a musical background, created his famous synthesizer in his home garage. Initially embraced by avant-garde classical musicians like Karlheinz Stockhausen, the synthesizer was later popularized in psychedelic rock of the 1960s and ultimately used by Giorgio Moroder in Donna Summer’s groundbreaking track “I Feel Love.” Meanwhile, in the 1920s, Soviet physicist and covert operative Leon Theremin accidentally invented an electronic instrument, named after himself, which initially featured in classical concert tours before becoming a staple in 1960s sci-fi movies.

Elizabeth Alker’s book, a Radio 3 presenter, serves as a vibrant exploration of these musical intersections, enriched by discussions with artists like McCartney, Jonny Greenwood of Radiohead, and DJ the Blessed Madonna. Greenwood credits Polish composer Krzysztof Penderecki as an influence—remarkably, also a noted vodka enthusiast. German electronic musician Nils Frahm attributes his inspiration to John Cage, particularly in appreciating the silence between notes—a concept also influenced by the less recognized composer Pauline Oliveros, as Alker compellingly argues. John Cale from the Velvet Underground describes how his studies with avant-garde composer La Monte Young inspired him to incorporate viola drones into Lou Reed’s music. Young, described as an intense interviewee, famously stated, “When one does music on the level that I do music, it is not entertainment,” and is rumored to indulge in six-hour-long showers.

Erik Satie, the French composer known for his concept of “furniture music,” haunts the pages of this book like an elegant specter, influencing a wide array of artists up to modern ambient-techno pioneers the Orb.

While the book’s subtitle suggests a direct lineage from classical to pop music, the relationship is far more reciprocal. Jazz, for instance, greatly influenced Stravinsky, as did folk traditions. The definition of “classical” music itself is debatable. Alker celebrates 20th-century composers who challenged traditional notions of harmony and rhythm, though she also acknowledges those like Terry Riley and Steve Reich who later embraced these elements. The modern “neoclassical” movement, featuring artists like Nils Frahm and Ólafur Arnalds, continues this trend, combining minimalist influences with harmonious, melodious soundscapes reminiscent of Japanese ambient music, covered in the book’s enchanting final chapter.

Alker’s book revels in the diversity of music and sound, cleverly referring to the rise in ambient music popularity as a “quiet boom.” The central thesis, endorsed by figures like bassist and producer Youth and echoed by Reich, is succinctly put: “Good music is good music.”