But what peculiar circumstances, exactly, I envisage as likely to promote classical music in the coming age of inter-stellar space travel:

Primo: The ordinary extraordinary length of  inter-stellar voyages

Secondo: The privileg'd favor we will enjoy, as being of the same species-race as Mozart and Monet and Michelangelo, from other inhabitants of the universe, when we begin to go about in it, for the art and music at the core of our culture, especially the "classics" of our civilization.  Chlorine-breathers from Procyon will automatically think of Rubens or Van Dyke when they see (they're constitutionally deaf) that we are humans, and accordingly think us under- or over-fed. The many other, more likely both hearing and seeing inhabitants of the universe whom we will probably encounter, will want us to have at least a working knowledge of how to write a Parody Mass. I say: Let's have it ready for them.

We have always before us the example of Unico Wilem van Wassenaer, who, really, wrote the six Pergolesi Concertini for strings, which I have loved with my whole heart since I first (maybe when I was 18 or 19 years old) heard them, not knowing they were fake, and in the estimation of their composer, "some tolerable, some middling, some wretched." And the hell-holes our man Unico got himself posted to! The interminable bad weather! And the waiting! No wonder that he took to writing music--which wound up being played, more or less as a joke, back at the Hague at his friends' Ricciotti's  and Bentinck's soireés musicales. That's how a gentleman writes music. A gentleman and, you will notice, a world traveler and man of affairs, renown'd for his probity, intelligence, and musicianship: the absolute epitome of God's finest, most sensitive, connoisseur of everything: the early eighteenth century Dutchman of the minor nobility. There is a certain sanctity about this paragon of refinement, which comes, I think, from our subject's astonishing affluence compared to other societies' milieux of approximately the same priviligié mingling of solid middle class, and upper class. This child of Fortune, compared to his fellows in Milan or Paris, was several times as rich as they were. Butch to a fault, but delicate in his tastes, and subtle in his distinctions: His were the ears that Ruckers' harpsichords were made for, which, effortlessly, appreciated, or felt, the purity of that instrument's tuning, while they delighted in the fullness and richness of its total sound.