Of course his Sony clout grew. But even here, things aren't all that obvious. Mr. Gelb reports to Mel Ilberman, the chairman of Sony Music International, who simply says: "It's wonderful to have this phenomenal record, regardless of label." And clearly, from a corporate point of view, "Titanic" isn't all that revolutionary. For one thing, the score--fueled by the movie, and the Celine Dion song--would have been a hit for any record company. And Sony has pop labels, too, which (if they're doing their job) generate enormous hits. That's how Sony makes its money from recording; one smash on Sony Classical won't change things.
Mr. Gelb isn't even free to go after movie scores alone. He works closely with Glen Brunman, who, as head of Sony Music Soundtrax, coordinates film projects on all of Sony's record labels. This sounds from both sides like a cordial relationship, and Mr. Brunman says, with genuine respect, that Mr. Gelb has now become "a player." But now what? As Mr. Brunman asks, now that Mr. Gelb has sketched out a possible new role at Sony, "How do you take this further?"
Mr. Ilberman suggests one answer, corporate synergy: "Classical," he says, "can now become a resource for all our music company." Take for instance Michael Bolton, who's signed to one of Sony's pop labels; when he wanted to sing opera, Sony Classical was there for him. (Something similar is springing up at Sony's rival, Polygram, where Elvis Costello, the brainy rocker, signed a contract covering the company's pop, jazz and classical record labels, so his projects can be marketed wherever they might find an audience.)

But here's a question. How did Sony Classical get "Titanic" in the first place? Common sense suggests one answer--if the album would have sold in any case, why not put it on the label that had never had a hit like that before, and would give it top priority?
But there's another reason, too: James Horner, who wrote the "Titanic" score, hit single and all, thinks of himself as a classical composer. On Sony Classical, he says, he could shape the soundtrack album as a single composition, culminating in the final song. A pop label, he explains, would have shunted some of his music aside, in favor of more catchy music from the film. "They would have said, let's get some of the ship's orchestra in there, or some of the Irish dances" (from the movie's party scene among the poorest passengers). Which explains why Mr. Horner wanted Sony Classical. But why did Peter Gelb want Mr. Horner?
Here we find the key to this whole affair--the crisis of classical record labels. As Mr. Gelb explains (echoed by many others in the classical music world) new recordings of what the biz calls "core" classics--Beethoven and the like--don't sell. "There are too many interpretations of each symphony available for stores to stock them all," says Mr. Gelb. New recordings of familiar works compete with old ones, and the new ones, Mr. Gelb will even dare to say, often might not be as good. So to keep his company profitable, he's betting on new music, which is radical enough--but he also wants to find new works a large audience will like. And to classical purists, that's downright shocking.
What a sinner Mr. Gelb turns out to be! Not only will he pass film scores off as classical, but, faced with more orthodox composers, he has the gall to tell them what to write. Publicly, he's stated that he signed Tan Dun--the Chinese composer whose "Symphony 1997" celebrated the return of Hong Kong to China--but only after telling him to compose more accessibly.
This, you'll hear it charged, is an assault on art. But I'll ask a subversive question. Do living classical composers (except perhaps for Philip Glass) make any impact, even on the classical audience? The answer, I'd suggest, is no. The classical music audience doesn't care about them; neither do artists in other fields. In recent decades, no new classical work (except possibly Mr. Glass's "Einstein on the Beach") has been a major cultural event, on a par, let's say, with a play like "Angels in America," or a work of visual art like Judy Chicago's "The Dinner Party."

Or as James Horner says: "I don't want to write an opera that has two days of life, and then dies." He says he's happy as an artist writing film scores, because he knows he has an audience. Classical loyalists will hoot of course, thinking about the money he presumably makes. But could any classical composer write a tune as simple, touching and, over many hearings, as resilient as "My Heart Will Go On"? (Part of its secret is the way its simple harmony flows, rarely reaching a conclusion.) In fact, wouldn't the healthiest challenge for classical composers--for their art, their sense of who they are, and even for their compositional technique--be to write something popular? The part of Tan Dun's "Symphony 1997" that Peter Gelb influenced, the pop-like song at the start and the end, is the strongest, freshest music in the piece.
There are dissenters, obviously. Albert Imperato, who runs Polygram's Deutsche Grammophon label in America, wonders about "people with classical on their business card who don't sell classical." He thinks "core" classics still might sell--but, he says, they need to be marketed in modern ways the classical music business doesn't know about. So in a way he's just as radical as Peter Gelb; maybe both of them, in different ways, will help revive their industry.
And imagine what might happen when the pipeline that brought James Horner to Sony Classical starts to flow the other way. Mr. Gelb has already gotten a film deal for John Corigliano, perhaps America's most widely played living classical composer. Suppose, someday, that somebody with orthodox classical credentials writes deeply moving music for a film, profound in its own right, that makes the impact of "Titanic." Suppose people rush to hear the music played in concerts. Wouldn't this be the major, more-than-musical event that classical composers ought to long for? Wouldn't it start, at least, to reconnect them with American culture?

[There are some very radical ideas here, at least for the classical music world. I'm amazed that I haven't gotten more response. If you've got a comment, please write to me!]

Wall Street Journal, April 17, 1998