LAUSR

concludes with a call for a renewal of state funding, to support a more widespread and democratic participation, a broadening of curricula, and an opening up of this closed and controlled world to a more diverse and inter-cultural set of musical and social exchanges. But if, by her own admission, it is this control and discipline, and the feeling of being part of a shared ‘community-in-sound’, that is so vital to the value classical music provides, then one wonders how far de-control can proceed. Yet, as Bull insists, there is still quite a lot that might be done. The challenge for classical music is to tackle classism, sexism and racism, and other forms of exclusion and discrimination, as well as build and incentivise support for a musical ecology that ‘recognizes multiple progression routes and vernacular music codes’ (p. 187) and takes aesthetic beauty as vital, but never immutable or unchanging. This is an excellent book, written with energy and economy, deftly combining theoretical and empirical work, and written with the measured confidence of an insider, as well as the critical reflexivity of the apostate. Music’s loss might be sociology’s gain – yet we might also hope that Bull’s book is read in, and beyond, both of these fields, not least for its vital insights into the ways young people are guided into (and willingly anchor themselves) to social structures, and how cultural and aesthetic practices help constrain as well as enable subject formation. As a contribution to the burgeoning literature on middle-class cultural practices, this book is significant; as an aid to understanding the place of classical music in contemporary society it will become a standard.