It
is an all-too common complaint. The under-appreciated
or ignored composer/songwriter accuses the listener
of not engaging with the work ‘on its own terms.’
It
sounds straightforward, but the accusation is packed
with all sorts of tangled ideas about what a listener's
job is, and whether art has some kind of fixed value.
When
the composer speaks of having to listen to music on
its own terms, he invariably conjures a specific, often
rigid, paradigm of engagement: that there exists but
one perfect, unassailable method by which to apprehend
the music, a method precisely calibrated to align with
the creator's original intent. Such a premise elevates
the composer to the role of an unquestionable arbiter,
the ultimate authority on both meaning and merit. The
audience, by this decree, is reduced to a passive receptacle,
tasked solely with absorbing and appreciating the work
precisely as it was meant to be absorbed. Any deviation
from this prescribed path, any personal interpretation
or spontaneous reaction, is dismissed as a fundamental
misapprehension, a failure to truly ‘get it.’
The
accusation rests upon a dubious foundation of unexamined
assumptions that more often than not create an unbridgeable
chasm between the creator's aspiration and the audience's
lived experience.
Foremost
among these is the curious notion that music, by some
inherent, objective decree, possesses a set of immutable
rules governing its reception and comprehension. Should
audiences, through some perceived intellectual or aesthetic
deficiency, fail to grasp or connect with these predetermined
elements, the fault is laid squarely at their feet.
The unspoken corollary is that a more astute, more attuned
audience would instantly recognize the music's inherent
worth, thereby propelling it to its rightful place in
the pantheon of popular acclaim. This convenient transference
of blame, from the artistic creation to its intended
recipient, is akin to asserting that a joke's failure
to elicit laughter stems not from its inherent lack
of humour, but from the audience's ignorance of complex
comedic theory.
The
second, equally specious, assumption posits the composer
as the sole arbiter of the music's meaning and intrinsic
worth. The music, in this worldview, becomes a direct
extension of the composer's inner world, his feelings,
and its essence can only be truly apprehended by those
who align their listening perfectly with his initial
creative impulse. The inconvenient reality of the audience's
actual experience, its subjective response, is thus
conveniently relegated to irrelevance.
This
is a classic manoeuvre of blame-shifting. Should a musical
work fail to captivate, to resonate, to achieve popular
success, it is not because it is impenetrable, tedious,
or simply ill-conceived. No, the deficiency resides
within the audience itself, lacking in patience or is
simply too obtuse to grasp its merit.
Such
an assumption often compels composers into a defensive
posture. When their creations are met with critical
indifference or, worse, outright neglect, they may resort
to accusing the audience of cultural illiteracy or a
lack of musical erudition. This engenders a false dichotomy
between serious music and popular music, wherein the
former demands a specialized mode of listening that
the latter, by its very nature, does not. The music's
unpopularity is thus transmuted into a perverse badge
of honour, a testament to its supposed profundity. This
convoluted reasoning conveniently absolves the composer,
even in the face of universal apathy, by attributing
failure to the audience's perceived shortcomings rather
than to his own creative choices.
Furthermore,
the complaint often proceeds from the premise that listening
to music, particularly that which is deemed complex
or experimental, is primarily an intellectual or technical
exercise, rather than an visceral or emotional encounter.
This perspective places undue emphasis on theory and
structure. It suggests that genuine appreciation can
only be attained through a rigorous deconstruction of
these elements. The raw emotional impact, the sheer
unadulterated pleasure, or the profound personal connection
that music can forge are, in this view, dismissed as
secondary.
This
intellectual conceit risks alienating those who approach
music primarily for its affective power, for its inherent
beauty, or for its capacity to foster a shared human
experience. Should the composer insist that his music
can only be understood through a labyrinthine technical
analysis, he erects an insurmountable barrier for all
but the most rigorously trained musicians or theorists.
The spontaneous, the intuitive, the emotionally driven
response to music is deemed somehow deficient or illegitimate.
Music
is not a mathematical equation, nor a scientific law,
where a singular, incontrovertible solution exists.
Nor is its meaning hermetically sealed within its structure.
The meaning of music is a continually shifting dynamic
between the composition, the performer who breathes
life into it, and the listener, who brings to the encounter
a unique tapestry of life experiences, cultural background
and, not to be short-shrifted, his current emotional
state.
A
single piece of music possesses the remarkable capacity
to affect disparate listeners in myriad ways, each equally
valid. "None of us is a hypocrite in our pleasures,"
observes La Rochefoucault. One may derive profound satisfaction
from the intricate counterpoint of a classical fugue
without ever consciously dissecting its architecture,
just as another may be deeply moved by a simple melody
without comprehending its underlying chord progression.
Music, by its very essence, is an open category, profoundly
personal and endlessly expansive.
What
once seemed audacious, even avant-garde in one epoch,
may, with the march of time, become utterly commonplace,
even quaint, in another. Audiences across generations
cultivate novel listening habits, develop new aesthetic
sensibilities and discover fresh modalities of connecting
with sound. To demand that contemporary listeners approach
historical music solely through the eyes of its original
era is an exercise in futility. Music evolves, and with
it, so too do we. As we accrue the wisdom of years,
our perspectives broaden, which often explains why the
music that once moved us no longer resonates with the
same intensity. The allure of music resides precisely
in its capacity for reinterpretation, its perpetual
rediscovery by each new generation. It is a dialogue
across the ages, not a fixed, immutable pronouncement.
There is nothing more exhilarating than a piece of music
that challenges our preconceived notions, compels us
to engage in a novel manner, or simply engulfs us in
an unexpected torrent of emotions.
This
is not to suggest that all music must be immediately
accessible or universally adored. Far from it. However,
a robust artistic environment necessitates a broad spectrum
of engagement, from the casual enjoyment of a fleeting
melody to the rigorous intellectual pursuit of academic
study, without invalidating any segment of that continuum.
The true objective ought to be the invitation of listeners
into the artistic conversation, not the erection of
intellectual barricades. The profound beauty of music
lies in its inherent universality, its unparalleled
capacity to transcend linguistic and cultural divides,
and to stir the human spirit. Music is a bridge between
the creator and the listener, and when that bridge is
sundered by an insistence upon intellectual purity,
all parties suffer.
What
resonates with one individual may fail to stir another.
We are, each of us, products of disparate backgrounds,
possessed of unique aesthetic predilections, seeking
varied experiences from the world’s music. Some crave
intellectual stimulation, others the primal urge to
dance, some seek solace and relaxation, while still
others yearn for profound challenge. The magic of music
resides in its boundless capacity to offer something
for every soul. Music, at its heart, is a conversation,
which, by its very nature, demands an openness to all
perspectives.
Which
isn’t to say that exceptional, high-quality music may
be unjustly overlooked or entirely ignored, not due
to any inherent flaw in its composition, but because
the audience lacked the requisite tools for its appreciation.
On far too many occasions, discerns Samuel Johnson,
“the first appearance of excellence unites multitudes
against it.” Consider a groundbreaking work of avant-garde
jazz presented to an audience whose entire musical diet
consists of the saccharine offerings of pop radio or
monotonic Rap. Such listeners may simply lack the ear
(musical vocabulary) to grasp the unfamiliar genre,
its unconventional harmonies and unorthodox structures.
In this case, the music isn’t deficient but rather the
listeners have yet to develop the necessary categories
of discrimination required to engage with something
profoundly divergent from their accustomed fare. It
is akin to expecting a devotee of comic books to readily
apprehend the intricacies of a philosophical treatise.
Genuine innovation frequently outpaces immediate public
comprehension, leaving truly visionary works to languish
in obscurity, awaiting discovery and celebration by
future generations.
Another
conceit is the composer's facile conclusion that his
music's lack of popularity is evidence of its profundity,
while popular music is dismissed as inherently shallow
or commercially compromised. Thus, commercial success
is perversely recast as the antithesis of artistic merit,
and obscurity is celebrated as the very hallmark of
excellence. Yet, the mere absence of popularity does
not, in itself, confer artistic merit. A significant
portion of music remains unpopular precisely because
it lacks compelling musical ideas, is poorly executed,
or simply fails to offer a meaningful experience to
the listener.
Cultural
distinctions play a crucial role in the reception and
valuation of music. A foundational musical interval
or rhythmic pattern (e.g., flamenco, Indian raga) in
one cultural milieu may prove utterly alien or devoid
of meaning in another. Composers who operate within
the confines of specific cultural or academic traditions
ought to temper their expectations regarding the universal
reception of their work by global audiences.
Music
is often lauded as a universal language, yet like any
language, it possesses dialects, accents and cultural
idioms that demand comprehension for true appreciation.
The driving power of music resides in its capacity to
bridge these cultural chasms, not to reinforce them.
It is about forging common ground, not imposing a singular
worldview. And that demands an open mind from both the
creator and the listener.
True
genius resides in the creation of something impactful,
irrespective of whether it is apprehended by millions
or by a dedicated few. The true measure of art is not
its market valuation, but its intrinsic power to move,
to challenge, to inspire and to withstand the test of
time.
The
pursuit of art ought to be a journey, not a retreat
into the comforting echo chamber of self-congratulation.
Communication, by its very essence, necessitates an
audience, however modest in number, however long it
may take to cultivate.
Music
is not consumed in a vacuum; it is experienced within
a complex dynamic of cultural norms, societal conventions
and individual circumstance. Music is inextricably woven
into the fabric of our lives, our celebrations, our
sorrows and especially our often messy relationships.
"And
I go at a maddening pace, and pretend that it’s taking
your place, but what else can you do at the end of
a love affair." End of a Love Affair
But
through thick and thin music is always there for us,
as a shared joy and moveable feast.
