In its com­pre­hen­siveness, this proc­ess of de­vel­op­ment may not have been the origi­nal in­ten­tion of the lis­tener; he may have lis­tened to the mu­sic be­cause he was quite sim­ply and natu­rally striv­ing for greater joy.
The clas­si­cal com­poser, how­ever, has in mind the to­tal­ity of all the joy of life for his lis­tener, and with his mu­si­cal work he paves pass­able ways for the lis­tener – by him­self pacing them out in ad­vance.

It would cer­tainly be worth­while if the in­ter­preter shared this con­scious in­ten­tion of the mu­si­cal crea­tor – which would quite natu­rally re­sult in the same modest serv­ing at­ti­tude and the cor­re­spond­ing loving, unheroic ap­pear­ance of the in­ter­preter which the com­poser pos­sesses at his crea­tive height.

For­tu­nately, how­ever, such a high, noble at­ti­tude of the in­ter­preter is not nec­es­sar­ily the pre­req­ui­site for the suc­cess of the mu­si­cal work, for the mu­si­cal state­ment to reach the lis­tener, and for the in­ten­tion, which the com­poser had, to be ful­filled.

It may even happen, and it is al­most the rule to­day, that on the one hand a per­for­mer shines in the glory of his outer pseudo-suc­cess – with­out a true ex­peri­ence of mu­sic of his own – whereas on the other hand a lis­tener si­mul­ta­ne­ously at­tains to the al­mighty crea­tive force in all si­lence and thus makes the true mu­si­cal ex­peri­ence.

Now, as we all know, mu­sic is not mu­sic, and unfor­tu­nately it is hardly ever be­ing pro­duced to bring those who love truth closer to their goal.
And by its struc­ture, the larg­est por­tion of mu­sic, that is en­ter­tain­ment mu­sic, de­scribes in its mu­si­cal state­ment not more than does a book on phys­ics or chem­is­try. Some­times en­ter­tain­ment mu­sic also touches – in the form of acous­tical eruptions of emo­tions – the field of bi­ol­ogy classes, or it turns into a su­per­fi­cial psy­cho­logi­cal de­scrip­tion of mostly shal­low and agitated emo­tions – with­out ever striv­ing for knowl­edge, nei­ther of a lower nor of a higher or­der.

But then the larg­est part of mu­sic does not share this goal any­way and justly, it is there­fore in­com­para­bly more sub­jected to decay than clas­si­cal mu­sic.

In terms of the great com­pos­ers, clas­si­cal mu­sic claims to impart knowl­edge, and it gives ample evi­dence that the great com­pos­ers of all times have out­stand­ing knowl­edge and in­sights, and also that they are able to com­mu­ni­cate them through their mu­sic.

How­ever, the mu­sic busi­ness of to­day, and unfor­tu­nately the mu­sic-edu­ca­tional In­sti­tu­tions, too, do not cater for such a claim; for in the edu­ca­tional sys­tem, a sys­tem­atic knowl­edge of find­ing truth in mu­sic is not avail­able to the mu­sic teach­ers and, there­fore, not to the mu­si­cians or the mu­sic stu­dents ei­ther.

And still, the phe­nome­non of cog­ni­tion of truth and the de­clared will of com­mu­ni­cat­ing truth through mu­sic are pre­sent in our great clas­si­cal com­pos­ers; and for the lis­tener and cer­tainly also for the mu­si­cian – for the in­ter­preter, but for the mu­sic teacher, too – they ac­count for the great charm and the great at­trac­tion of this lan­guage of sound fraught with truth.

The act of the mu­si­cal crea­tor is not so much aimed at ex­plain­ing what truth ac­tu­ally is; for truth is what it is any­way – with or with­out the mu­si­cal crea­tor or the lis­tener.

The com­poser mainly focusses on guiding his lis­tener like a somnambulant or a dreamer, but also like a knower, to the source of wis­dom and there to let him drink from the im­mor­tal nectar.
So the com­poser con­cen­trates on the path and sees to it that, when tread­ing this path to­gether, the trust and the con­fi­dence of his lis­tener grows.

And here the com­poser takes no risk; he em­ploys all the means of his art to sys­tem­ati­cally in­crease the poetic ca­pa­bil­ity of his lis­tener, and unob­tru­sively and dis­creetly he elimi­nates any doubt.