Curious and well-organized people are often characterized by the desire to group things together. As musicologist Jim Samson has contended, a tendency to classify objects according to a set of shared properties allows knowledge to be both “manageable and persuasive.” This is as true for the music of everyday life as it is for the rarities which form the subject of arcane typologies; in all circumstances people feel the compulsion to analyze the music they enjoy. Anyone who has worked in schools will know that few subjects ignite debate between young people as much as the eternal delineation of popular music genres. The arguments that rage between those in the know about the differences between ‘dubstep’ and ‘grime’ are motivated by the same spirit of enquiry that leads those in other more institutional spheres to discuss the categorization of Arvo Pärt as minimalist or ‘holy minimalist,’ modernist or postmodern. In recent years, however, these labels, like a moth-eaten cardigan, have begun to wear slightly thin in academic discourse. Useful and enlightening criticism is often deferred in favour of tortuous defining, redefining, and qualification of these irksome terms to the extent that many academics simply sidestep them. There is a section of the audience, however, for whom the words modernist and postmodern may yet prove helpful to their appreciation of music. Many of us care deeply for music but sometimes the ability to identify and articulate why this is the case lies beyond our competency. In grappling with these words, and with the meanings which orbit them, we may begin to understand what it is about Pärt’s music that makes it precious to so many listeners.