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The midcentury dominance of aesthetic formalism and specialist critics reflects what Caroline Jones has described as a “bureaucratization of the senses,” in which each art form acquires its own self-referential form of theory and practice. Dance is dance; music is music. Thus, for a dance critic, the scant and dismissive coverage Walter Terry gives to John Cage is symptomatic. He describes the avant-garde sounds as “strange scores,” and after a brilliantly sensitive account of Merce Cunningham’s choreography, he remarks on their indigestibility by claiming to find himself craving “thirty-two bars of [Ludwig] Minkus” by the end of the concert. (Minkus was a nineteenth-century composer of traditional ballet music.) Despite this, the high-modernist rhetoric of the dance is hardly lost on him. Terry describes Cunningham’s solo dance Changeling (1957) as a chilling but still human picture of negation—“a portrait of an unwanted, or uncertain, creature.”