I'm never sure what my thoughts on originality are. I dislike the modern idiom quite a bit (or a big chunk of it. there's a lot in ligeti etc that I like, but.) because I think it assumes that written and heard music are experienced in the same way, and descends into lame gimmickry as a result. Once music gets mathematical in the 12-tone sense, aural meaning gets lost. Our ears cannot extract from what is heard the tone row, or its inversions, or its numerous chordal transformations. Music that is mathematical on the page is noise to the ear. I have a test which I use when I'm listening to something moderately "modern" -- that is, does my *listening* to the music make me appreciate it more than if I just saw the incredibly clever/original/quirky/avant-garde score? Very often the music just sounds lame.
What *can* our ears plausibly extract, then? Tonality is an especially useful tool (though it is certainly not the only one) because it builds upon the natural biological capacities of the ear. We can obviously distinguish between different scales (note that the "western" scale is built up naturally from a succession of overtones) and different major/minor triads, etc. We can also tell modulations or certain harmonic effects (dissonance, consonance) apart. A more sensitive ear may catch certain harmonic intervals or leitmotifs, etc.
What is the unique value of "uniqueness"? Why does the statement "this music is unlike past music" goad me in any way to be inclined to like that music more? Good music is nice notes put in nice orders. I could not care less whether they are put in Bach-like orders, Mozart-like orders, or wholly new orders. Maybe a value of newness is the surprise and the intellectual pleasure that we gain from experiencing a new idiom. Is the value of that emotional response more important in some meaningful sense from just having well-organised, sensitive music on a page? I don't see why.
So if I write a Mozart symphony, it's still brilliant music. If I write a Bach fugue, it's still great. The notes are in nice orders. The danger in some fetishization of originality is that we forget that music is not, essentially, clever gimmickry, or intellectual self-pleasuring. It's about trying to elicit emotional responses -- one of which is a sense of intellectual satisfaction. We ought not delude ourselves into thinking that this is the only meaningful emotional response music can elicit.
Many composers who try very hard to be original forget that originality is very, very, often more fun and exciting for the composer than the listener. I will make a major caveat here: that the ear can adapt to new sounds. See Stravinsky, Prokofiev, etc. But I do claim that there are inherent limits to this. So some people consider 12-tone stuff deeply moving, but I do claim that they would find any random piece of nonsense equally moving, because they would learn to like the randomness of the sounds they were hearing. It is not the *organization* of notes, no matter how intellectually pleasing, that creates the emotional response. It is the listener doing for the composer what the composer ought to have done.
I object strongly to the claim that "True to yourself does also mean true to your time. That implies: no style-copies." 1. Why can I not conceive myself as a person of a different time? 2. Well, what is the music of our time like? The vast majority of the music being listened to is tonal. Most of it is vocal. Most of it incorporates electronic stuff, and most of it uses very straightforward harmony. So I'm afraid that while Jrcramer writes very interesting music that I often like very much, he is not writing music of our time at all. A modern casual listener would not get much out of it. I'm sure people prefer, say, Coldplay's stuff to my musical scribblings. The truth us that *none* of us should pretend to be writing "music of our time". What we are doing, and what is no less praiseworthy, is writing music that we like, for all sorts of subjective reasons, and hoping that in a community of people like this one other peiple will appreciate our efforts. Austenite is right on this point, and we ought to be at least a little less pretentious about what we're actually doing. I dislike fluffy "true to yourself" nonsense, but I find it a better standard than being "modern" or "original", at least.
Great literary writers do not write gibberish, objecting to the fact that their language is the language of the past. James Joyce came very close, but even then his language was rooted in an infinitude of reference to the past. What they do is take words, sentences, phrases, plot structures, and do things with them that are interesting. I do not see why we ought in music to aspire toward some undefinable and naive ideal of being true to some arbitrary value of originality. If we discovered a manuscript by Beethoven and declared it a masterpiece, and then realised that it was a forgery by some 21st century hack, the notes on the page remain exactly the same. Why, suddenly and inexplicably, does that music then become bad?
So, in what is at best an oblique answer to Marzique's question, (I do not believe from past observation that you desire any serious discussion, but I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt here, since Jrcramer is clearly keen of having a real discussion about the merits of a modern idiom) I'll say: why do you even care to be "modern"? I fear that many of the most original composers were not trying particularly hard to be modern. Scriabin wrote what he thought sounded interesting to him. Prokofiev's very first pieces featured his natural affinity for asymmetry, tritones, percussive use of the piano, etc.
Just write stuff, listen to stuff, and hopefully the notes will take you places. Or maybe they won't, but we ought not care. Cry me a river.