Why is it that whenever I hear a piece of music I don't like

Hear the sharp words of Igor Stravinsky, master of rhythm and fire, who once declared: “Why is it that whenever I hear a piece of music I don’t like, it’s always by Villa-Lobos?” This utterance, though wrapped in jest, carries the sting of rivalry and the burden of judgment. For in it Stravinsky reveals a truth of the artist’s path—that even masters may clash, that one voice may find discord where another finds beauty. The quote is not merely insult, but a testament to the eternal struggle between different visions of art. Where Stravinsky saw clarity, order, and discipline, he found in Villa-Lobos a chaos, a wilderness untamed, and thus called it unpleasing.

The ancients, too, knew that artists often battle one another as fiercely as kings. Did not the tragedians of Athens—Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides—compete with their words, each seeking to claim the laurel crown? One poet’s triumph was another’s disdain, for the gods themselves sow discord among the gifted to sharpen their art. Stravinsky’s barb at Villa-Lobos echoes this same ancient contest. It is not that the Brazilian composer was without power—indeed, his music teemed with vitality and the pulse of the jungle—but that Stravinsky, prophet of structure and modernist order, could not abide a spirit so unruly. Thus his tongue became the weapon of dismissal, declaring him always the author of what displeased him.

Consider the tale of Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci. Both giants, yet both scorned the other’s vision. Leonardo accused Michelangelo of brutish force, while Michelangelo mocked Leonardo for endless experiments without resolve. And yet, from their rivalry came greatness, for each sharpened his own gift against the presence of the other. In the same way, Stravinsky’s rejection of Villa-Lobos reflects not mere hatred, but the tension of two mighty forces, each carrying a different flame: one European and modern, the other Brazilian and primal. In the clash of flames, the world saw two fires burn brighter.

And yet we must not stop at the surface. There is a deeper wisdom in this quarrel. Stravinsky’s words remind us that taste, even among the great, is bound by vision and bias. What one calls chaos, another calls vitality. What one despises as excess, another treasures as freedom. To Stravinsky, Villa-Lobos was noise; to others, he was the soul of Brazil, a voice that wove folk tradition with daring invention. Thus, we learn that no artist, however mighty, holds the final judgment. Art lives not in the mouth of the critic, but in the hearts of those it moves.

This truth teaches humility. For even the greatest masters will find art they despise, and even the most scorned will find admirers. Therefore, let no one dismiss another’s work as wholly worthless, for time itself decides what endures. Just as Stravinsky’s sharp tongue could not erase the legacy of Villa-Lobos, so too will no insult or dismissal erase what is true to its people and its age. The river of art flows beyond rivalry, carrying both harmony and discord into eternity.

Practical wisdom follows: in your own life, you will hear voices that clash with yours, works that strike your ear as ugly, ideas that offend your sense of order. Do not fear this. Instead, let them test your vision, sharpening what you love by the contrast of what you do not. Learn from even those you reject, for their very difference may reveal the contours of your own soul. And remember always—what is distasteful to you may be life-giving to another. Let your judgment guide your path, but never harden your heart into scorn alone.

So let Stravinsky’s biting words be heard not merely as insult, but as a parable of rivalry and difference. Let them remind us that even the greatest struggle with the visions of others, and that such struggle is the forge of art itself. Honor your own taste, but respect the flame of others, for the world is vast enough to hold both clarity and chaos, both structure and wildness. In this way, you will walk not as one who despises, but as one who discerns. And in discernment, wisdom is born.