What Is Music?

August 7, 2007 at 8:29 PM

What a question. Those are the words that open the documentary Music from the Inside Out, a really wonderful film that I first saw back in April, and recently had the urge to re-watch. It was very revealing to see these professional musicians (all members of the Philadelphia Orchestra) stumped when asked to define their art. The funny thing was that, of course, I couldn't think of an answer to that question either. I've probably seen dozens of quotes from musicians, authors, composers, and performers that attempt to define music in some way. Music is "the shorthand of emotion" (Leo Tolstoy); music is "the space between the notes" (Debussy) "it is "the art which is most nigh to tears and memory" (Oscar Wilde); it "expresses that which cannot be said, but on which it is impossible to be silent," (Victor Hugo) and so on. The wonderful thing is that all of these definitions are correct to some extent. And they all speak to different people in a different way. Just like music itself. What I find so incredible is that music is at once universal and highly personal. A great piece of music is capable of moving a large spectrum of people . . . but it touches them each in a slightly different way.

Back to the documentary though . . . there was another moment near the opening where a musician says that for as long as he can remember, music has moved him deeply, and yet, he has no idea why. His comment made me recall a quote from the British writer G. K. Chesterton. In describing the power of visual symbols, he says, "There is a path from the eye to the heart that does not go through the intellect." It struck me how changing a single word makes this thought applicable to music as well: "There is a path from the ear to the heart that does not go through the intellect."

Hearing this man in the documentary talk about the power of music, I was compelled to ask, "Why does it move me so much?" How can mere sounds produce such seemingly real feelings — even visceral responses? When I listen to something really moving, it feels as if the music is tugging right at my heart, in my very core . . . how does it do this? I'm sure some part will always be a mystery, but I've been musing on a few explanations. One obvious answer is that I've simply been conditioned to appreciate music, particularly classical music. "The more you practice, the more you learn; the more you learn, the more you know; the more you know, the more you understand; the more you understand, the more you appreciate; and the more you appreciate, the more you LOVE." Also, there must be some natural wiring of the human brain and body that simply finds pleasure in certain sounds and harmonies, and associates particular musical motifs with various emotions and characters. Another thing I've noticed more and more is how a memory associated with a particular piece of music can make it even more powerful. Certain pieces — Mahler 9, Brahms G Major Violin Sonata, even a Scottish air called Josefin's Waltz — are beautiful in themselves, but they mean much more to me now than the notes or the melodies. It's the people, the places, the memories connected with them that help make them so vivid to me.

I have to admit that lately I've felt a little overwhelmed by how much I still have to learn. Even if I study just one instrument (violin) in one genre (classical) from one art form (music), I could work on it for a lifetime and still have more to learn. Not only is there so much to learn technique-wise, but such a huge repertoire —solo pieces, chamber music, orchestral works. And beyond just the actual playing, there is a lot to learn that contributes to interpreting music: studying different composers and eras, understanding the structures of various compositional forms, not to mention knowing the legacy of the great violinists. I could spend years studying the life, recordings, and advice from just one great violinist. And there are so many of them! And then beyond the just violin, there are so many instruments and artists I admire and want to explore. Plus, classical music is just the tip of the iceberg when you look at music as a whole. What about folk, jazz, rock? They are all so rich and interesting, with performers no less talented and compelling than classical artists. And then (my favorite) there is music that defies a label. Just look at Edgar Meyer. Is his music classical, folk, jazz, country, blues? You tell me.

For some reason, this summer more than any other has brought home the fact that I'm the tiniest of tadpoles in the ocean that is music. There have been a couple days lately where I was so overwhelmed it was depressing. Luckily I've taken a couple steps back now, and I think I've reached the point where I realize there is just waaay too much out there musically for me to ever delve into all of it well. And I'm okay with that. I'm just going to cover the basics, and then wander through the myriad of musical choices and challenges according to my instincts. And heck, if that means I buy Edgar Meyer's latest album while committing the crime of owning only two Heifitz recordings, then so be it. There comes a point where I just need to enjoy what I like and not what everyone else tells me I should.

Of course, its possible I'm just making all this more complicated than it has to be. Maybe I've been overwhelming myself. I think I should just shut up for a while now and live life. :)

From Pauline Lerner
Posted on August 8, 2007 at 4:30 AM

I agree with you. Music is undefinable and overwhelming. For me, too, certain pieces are enriched because they are associated in my mind with a particular person or experience. Re Edgar Meyer, whom I've just discovered: I know that he recorded a transcription for the double bass of Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suites. Do you have it? Do you recommend it?

From Laurie Niles
Posted on August 8, 2007 at 5:28 AM

The more you appreciate, the more you love...:) I like that one.

My yoga teacher likes to tell us that we are all tiny drops of water, and that we can't do anything unless we become one with the ocean. Somewhere in that surrender, you find your place.

In other words, embrace tadpolehood and you'll find more power than you think!

From Albert Justice
Posted on August 8, 2007 at 5:52 AM

""There is a path from the eye to the heart that does not go through the intellect." It struck me how changing a single word makes this thought applicable to music as well: "There is a path from the ear to the heart that does not go through the intellect.""

Wow!. That image is so powerful.... I always say that music nourishes us just as food and beauty does, but the how's I've never bothered with--that is soooo cool.

It's odd, but I can close my eyes and hear music, and not here the sounds. Just the experience of the music, reverberates in the holistic universe that we all share inside, bringing me comfort just remembering I guess, that it exists. I think this further supports your poetic license with a single word. Perhaps a single note?

From Ruth Kuefler
Posted on August 8, 2007 at 7:10 PM

Glad to know I'm not the only one who feels this way. :)

Pauline - no, unfortunately I do not own Edgar Meyer's solo Bach recording (yet). I've focused so far on his own compositions: his Bass Quintet, Violin Concerto, pieces written for the Appalachia albums, etc. But knowing Edgar Meyer, I'm sure his Bach is stellar as well.

From Bill Busen
Posted on August 9, 2007 at 4:33 AM

I think your problem and solution are both contained in this entry. When you are overwhelmed with how far you have to go interpretively, technically, musically, the saving grace is that music is relational. From your blog, I get the impression that you will be among those violinists like Rachel Barton Pine, Midori, and Hilary Hahn (whether or not you ever reach those career levels) who are able to weave together the music with the human elements, in the music and in the times between the music, like the mentors many of us cherish.

I would run with that, if I were you. Nobody is going to train you on that but you seem to be doing well enough growing in that on your own. It's important to reach the highest levels artistically, but it is also important to teach inspirationally, to speak to laymen in a way that communicates the wonders that lay before them if they will open the door, to humanely offer your music to those who will never experience it otherwise.

And you'll get the chance sooner than you think. In a few months, you will be surrounded by aspiring musicians, in a wondrous, bitter, free, cynical, joyous, lonely, tight-knit, self-destructive, transcendent whirlpool. That will make all too much sense in a year, and then you can start testing out the unique toolkit of music, love, insightful verbal communication, compassion, whatever else you might have, on the injured, discouraged, frightened world that starts with your stand partner.

You'll do great.

This entry has been archived and is no longer accepting comments.

What Is Music?

Subscribe

Laurie's Books