The principal problem remains, however. The business dynamism which affects so much of our music life constantly perpetuates itself, and, as can be observed in matters remote from music, often achieves a quasi-ideological status, fostering as it does a system of values favorable to business as such. There is nothing new in the ideas themselves: the taste of the public--that is, supposedly, the majority of listeners--is invoked as the final criterion, the court of last appeal. Much effort and research is devoted to the process of discovering what this majority likes best, the objective being programs and repertory in accordance with the results of this research. Actually it is not that simple, especially since, with the beginning of radio and the spectacular development of the phonograph and recordings in the twenties, the musical public has grown enormously in size. Instead of numbering a few thousands concentrated in a few centers it now numbers many millions distributed over all parts of the country. It still continues to grow, not only in the provinces, but also in the centers themselves. Such a public shows the widest possible variety of taste, background, and experience. Hence it makes specific demands. As one looks at the situation from the point of view of a large musical enterprise, one may well ask which public it aims to satisfy. The tendency must be to try to satisfy, as far as possible, the majority of listeners, to offer programs which will draw the greatest possible number of people into the concert hall, and to convince them that they hear the best music that can be heard anywhere. The result is a kind of business ideology which bears a curious resemblance to the sincerely and justly despised ideology of the totalitarians, even though the coercive aspects are absent. There are signs that the tendency may be gradually receding as a more alert public is becoming constantly more mature and more demanding, and before the ceaseless self-criticism, another characteristic feature of our cultural life. Perhaps, and above all, through the courageous efforts of some leading personalities (such as the late Serge Koussevitzky, who always insisted on the recognition of contemporary music, and especially our American, and like Dimitri Mitropoulos who has waged a fight for music which is considered “difficult”) a change is in store. These efforts have often been surprisingly successful, and while the battle is far from won--is such a battle _ever_ really and finally won?--one remembers, for instance, the spectacular success which Mitropoulos achieved in the 1950/51 season with a concert performance of Alban Berg’s _Wozzeck_. One also remembers the case of Bélà Bártòk--it is frequently asked, especially in the United States, why this great composer had to die almost ignored by our musical public, while scarcely a year after his death he became, and, on the whole, has remained virtually a classic whose music today is heard, played,