Let’s get something out of the way right off the bat: yes, Philip Glass writes a lot of notes. Sometimes the same notes. Sometimes the same notes again. And again. And yes, sometimes again after that. But if you think that makes his music boring, you’re missing the whole point. Glass isn’t wallpaper—he’s more like a sonic kaleidoscope. Stay with me, because I promise by the time we get to his string quartets, you’ll be converted.

A Brief History of Minimalism

Minimalist music came out of the 1960s, when a bunch of composers decided they were tired of the European avant-garde insisting that music had to be either inscrutable or sound like a robot learning Morse code. Along came Americans like Steve Reich, Terry Riley, and La Monte Young, who said, “What if we made music that actually sounded… kind of nice? What if repetition could be hypnotic instead of tedious?” Cue the beginnings of minimalism: looping patterns, pulsing rhythms, gradual shifts you barely notice until suddenly the whole world sounds different. It was like discovering psychedelic rock, except instead of guitars and LSD, you got marimbas and altered time signatures.

Enter Philip Glass: The Metronome with a Soul

Philip Glass took those minimalist seeds and planted them in a vast garden of operas, film scores, symphonies, concertos, and—yes—string quartets. He’s the guy who figured out that endless arpeggios and rhythmic cycles could actually carry deep emotional weight. One minute you’re zoning out to what seems like a broken player piano, the next you’re ugly-crying because those same four chords suddenly feel like your entire childhood, your breakup, and your last good meal all rolled into one. Glass is minimalism’s great popularizer—the one who made it cool, mainstream, and, dare I say, addictive. He’s like the Starbucks of minimalist music: maybe he wasn’t the very first, but he made sure everybody knew how good a tall half-caf triple-shot repeating pattern could be.

Why the 3rd and 5th String Quartets Are Perfect Examples

Let’s cut to the chase: Glass’s String Quartet No. 3 (Mishima) and String Quartet No. 5 are all the proof you need that minimalism isn’t just a gimmick.

• Quartet No. 3 (Mishima): Written for the film score to Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters. It’s short, but it packs a punch. Each movement feels like a perfect haiku—repeated figures that shimmer and shift, evoking serenity, tension, and inevitability. It’s like musical origami: simple folds that create astonishing complexity.
• Quartet No. 5: This one’s more expansive, more lush, more… dare I say… romantic? It’s still Glass—you get the repetition, the pulsing patterns—but now he layers it with soaring lines and subtle harmonic shifts. It’s like watching sunlight move across a wall: nothing “happens,” but everything happens. If No. 3 is origami, No. 5 is a cathedral made entirely of glass (pun intended).

Together, these quartets show why Glass matters. They’re meditative without being inert, emotional without being sentimental, and—best of all—they’re just plain gorgeous.

So Why Should You Love Glass Too?

Because his music teaches patience in a world that doesn’t have any. Because he makes you notice the small shifts, the hidden details, the way repetition can transform into revelation. And because, frankly, if you don’t give him a chance, you’ll keep thinking “minimalism” means IKEA furniture instead of music that can rearrange your brain. And here’s where it gets personal: on September 28th, my wife Ann and I will be hosting the final 45^th Parallel garden concert of the season in our own backyard. We’ll be joined by my colleagues to bring Philip Glass’s quartets to life under the open sky, and we’ll transform our garden into a video sculpture garden, with projected scenes from Mishima and other iconic Glass works. Trust me—there’s no better place to fall in love with this music than in the magical acoustics of a Portland garden, surrounded by friends, flowers, and maybe even a glass (of wine) to go with your Glass. Plus, if you ever want to impress your friends at a party, casually mentioning your obsession with Glass’s string quartets is way classier than admitting you’ve listened to the same Taylor Swift song on repeat 37 times this week. So yes, I love Philip Glass. And so should you.

Ron Blessinger
Violinist and concert curator
Oregon Symphony and 45^th Parallel Universe