Complex, challenging, or difficult music typically is barely tolerated by most audiences. Often the most one can expect as way of response is screwed up eyes, bunched faces, and the inevitable rhetorical retort; "what is this noise?" The odd person, here and there, who lays claim to enjoying such dissonant cacophonies such as atonal, free jazz, musique concrète, or indeterminate music is usually a music junky haunting records stores for that elusive rare album of newest sounds. Not many people really know, nor care, of the ways and by ways that lead various composers or performers to create extreme works of art that challenge and extend accepted notions of beauty, melody and tune. Why should people care anyway? What is the point? Can these kinds of musics go too far? Is it relevant? Yet, those who work in such a frequently rejected musical idiom, due to an inaccessible nature, do have something of value to offer that can be discerned through examining their personal stances about their art. While acknowledging that not all musical attempts are successful in their endeavor, it is to be argued that with some inculcation, audiences may find that complex and difficult works of music have an important place in our society as representations of authentic convictions of life stances. They represent silences, worlds unexplored, or messages from places beyond everyday experience. There is no arguing that difficult kinds of music need at least some kind of explanation before a willing new listener can explore it fully. Actually, early apologetics for "modern" music in the early to mid 20th century focused on the idea, some would say arrogantly, that audiences needed more education in order understand the new modern complex works. The American composer Milton Babbit, who composed in a vigorous serial atonal style, wrote a polemic in the 1958 issue of High Fidelity with the title, "Who Cares If You Listen?" His contention was that "because they are so bad at remembering precise values of pitch, register, dynamics, duration and timbre, most listeners ended up 'falsifying' the intentions of the composer" (Ball 25). The take home point here is that this music rivals abstract mathematics in its scope and depth of complexity. Explanations explored here are from the composers or performers themselves. Why do they compose these baffling works? How do they compose? Was there a specific point to a particular piece? There are myriad answers to these questions, each as individual and particular to the time and place each one worked. Musicians from the whole span of the 20th Century Western music will be evoked, most well known, some perhaps lesser known. The Austrian composer, Arnold Schoenberg (1874 -1951), well known for virtually single handedly introducing the atonal style of twelve-tone of composition. Possible even more well known, was one of his students, John Cage (1912 - 1992). Cage was (in)famous for his 4'33" composition; a work of music which required the performer to not play a single sound. Iannis Xenakis (1922-2001) developed advanced mathematical methods of composition using stochastic process, set theory, and game theory which impacted electronic and computer music. Jazz saxophonist Albert Ayler (1936 - 1970), was primarily known for an ear breaking screeching technique of performance. Each of these musicians will be allowed to demonstrate a little bit of how and why they compose the music they do. In this way it is hoped to reveal their personal life stances, their explored worlds, important place markers that impacted their work and ultimately why this music is important to society. By way of introducing Arnold Schoenberg, non-musicians should understand that technically there are only twelve notes available in Western music — not counting pitches in between these notes, then there are an infinite amount. But, in 'standard practice' all twelve are almost never used in one melody or even within one song. Really only five, seven, or maybe nine would ever be used in five minuet piece. Even if more were used, new tones would be introduced in a manner that allowed them to be expected. Scheonberg's method was accomplished by rigidly using every single note within the twelve then available before any repetition was allowed. Philip Ball argued that Schoenberg's twelve tone style defied gestalt-based cognitive principles of continuity, implying that his listeners were set up to fail at finding any unitary foundation. Cognitively a series of twelve pitches is actually more than the human brain can accurately remember (Miller). His music has a disjointed, restless, and often bleak sound. "Non difficult" music typically has something repeatable that a listener can recall to mind, not so with Schoenberg's music, he very carefully wrote any repetitive motifs out that would suggest any sense of tonal space that one might find familiar. Schoenberg knew his "music [was] not lovely" (Adorno), but also said that "if it is art, it is not for all, and if it is for all, it is not art" (Schoenberg 124). And irrespective of the rigor of his work, he denied that modern music was purely intellectual, that “brain and heart are both necessary” (Scofield). It seems Schoenberg aspired to an almost Nietzcheian ideal of which the artist or musician is able to express the essence of everything through their art. He did not refer directly to why he wrote music, but only that he must express himself in what ever manner that arose out of his deepest self. Schoenberg wrote to the painter Kandinsky that “art belongs to the unconscious! One must express oneself! Express oneself directly! Not one’s taste, or one’s upbringing, or one’s intelligence, knowledge or skill. Not all these acquired characteristics, but that which is inborn, instinctive ” (Hahl-Koch 23). Music that comes from these kinds depths acquires all of the complexity and psychic baggage that a thoughtful evolving artist has to bear. So, softening Babbit’s earlier argument that audiences need training to appreciate this kind of music, the suggestion here may carry more weight if considered under the idea that maybe an evolution of listening is called for. It may very well be difficult for people to find a sonic unitary foundation here, according to gestalt theory, but beauty is not simply a matter for just brain physiology, intellect or emotion alone. Over time with consistent listening, people perhaps can become accustomed to atonal twelve tone music. But why? Twelve tone composers from this era do not supply very satisfactory answers to this question. They were still operating from the vantage point that the artist is superior. We will look to John Cage to find hints why complex music is important to society, — and it is ironic indeed that Cage’s studies with Schoenberg resulted in rejection by this master musician. Fortunately Cage continued on without Schoenberg’s help. John Cage is probably one of the most well known and more controversial of modern composers. It is unfortunate that almost all discussions about this composer's work begins with his three-movement “silent” composition 4’33”, because he has so many other wonderful works that are just as controversial and important. Nonetheless, as noted earlier, due to the fact that the score instructs the performer(s) to not play their instruments - at all - during the whole length of the piece, it is important to address the origination of this piece. There really is nothing complex or difficult about four minutes and thirty three seconds of silence. Why did John Cage ‘write’ it and why should audiences ‘listen’ to it? The composer was inspired to have such a piece after he had famously spent time at Harvard University’s anechoic chamber, a soundproof room built to eliminate all exterior sounds. To Cage’s great delight he found that in fact instead being presented with complete silence, instead he noted he was able to hear a high sound and a low one, to which he was told one was his nervous system and the other his circulating blood. This led to the realization that in fact, there can be no true silence. It was this way that Cage began to furtively write silence into his musical works. Cage wrote that, “I introduced silence. I was a ground, so to speak, in which emptiness could grow.” (Cage) He found over time that he disagreed that the purpose of music was to communicate something, as he noticed people reacted differently than he anticipated. He came upon the notion that music’s purpose was to “sober and quiet the mind.” The artist was, in fact, to imitate nature. (Cage) By writing music where silent portions were as just as important as the rest, by Cage’s definition, the audience, and hence society, would have to engender quieting their own minds down. So, in reality, this composer is actually inviting the attentive and ‘silent’ listener actively into the performance, by making the very sound that individual hears within his own being, a part of the composition. The shuffling of clothes, outside street noises, coughing, even body sounds become important and relevant in this context. Surely, in a hyper connected age, where multitasking is rampant everywhere, the reason why society could use more silence must be apparent. A portion of audiences to modern music are well aware and interested enough to understand and comprehend some of the complex ideas posited by contemporary composers. A remaining question is how much responsibility does a audience really have? Why ask them to evolve and be more quiet? Of course each performer or composer would have different answers to this salient point, but based from their words it is apparent that they consider it imperative that society prepare for the journey before it can fully comprehend where it - society - is going. Music from these artists is the ground by which new ways can be found to envision and create new and better conditions for living. The audience's liability lies within the desire for this, they must see the need for this music. Composers and musicians should articulate why they need it, and society should be open to these possibilities. New worlds exist. Quantum physics, theories about multiple dimensions and abstract philosophy tell us about them. Music (and other fields) can show people how to grasp at least glimpses of them. Greek composer Iannis Xenakis studied architecture with Le Corbusier and pioneered using statistics, physics and mathematical stochastic (randomized) processes for compositions. His piece Pithiorakta was based on stochastic motion of molecular gases. Metastaseis combined Einstein’s theories on time as well as Xenakis’s memory of the sound of warfare. These and other works used such scientifically based ideas to generate ‘masses’ or ‘clouds’ of sounds which defied any comparison to musical works before him. His purpose was to recreate music representing such naturalistic events as “collisions of hail or rain with hard surfaces” or “political crowds of dozens or hundreds of thousands of people”. (Luque) Xenakis’s seminal text, Fomalized Music Thought and Mathematics in Composition (1971) lays out a fairly rich goal, his life stance, for his art: Art, and above all, music has a fundamental function, which is to catalyze the sublimation that it can bring about through all means of expression. It must aim through fixations which are landmarks to draw towards a total exaltation in which the individual mingles, losing his consciousness in a truth immediate, rare, enormous, and perfect. If a work of art succeeds in this undertaking for even a single moment, it attains its goal. This tremendous truth is not made of objects, emotions, or sensations; it is beyond these, as Beethoven's Seventh Symphony is beyond music. (Xenakis 1) Despite being a difficult passage to digest, there are crucial ideas to review from this quote. Xenakis stresses bringing about a sublimation; sublime, rarify, to raise up, purify. He wants to raise the individual, through a loss of (self) consciousness in some kind of ‘immediate truth’. This truth is beyond the pale. It is not ordinary; it is suprasensitive or outside normal sensory channels. This music is to be a means of transportation, a window into realities that only scientists previously understood. Xenakis music strives to depict, — for people who might not other wise have such an experience — scientific realities such as motion of gases, quantum time, and astronomically large numbers. Worlds unexplored are laid slightly more open for the public with such music. Deeply complex music is vital to the advancement of an open society. These composers are explorers of our times, just as most would see the need for exploration of outer space, thus it should be here as well. This music suggests how unseen worlds may seem like if we were able to experience them directly and not just as concepts for contemplation. Evolution is necessary before these sublime mysteries can be perceived, but evolution is crucial because staying in place is no longer acceptable. The audience's responsibility is to want this exploration, this evolution, to be open to it. This and more must arise out of the ground of silence, as nothing can be learned before acknowledgment of our own physicality is addressed. Silence reminds us we are alive. As does the gut reaction to difficult music, it may sound like noise at first, but with time a window opens to a door to undreamt of places for both the individual and eventually society to explore, grow and actualize life. In the words of Albert Ayler, “You have to purify and crystallize your sound in order to hypnotize. I’m convinced, you see, that through music, life can be given more meaning. And every kind of music has an influence— either direct or indirect—on the world around it so that after a while the sounds of different types of music go around and bring about psychological changes. And we’re trying to bring about peace" (Ayler 1). CITED WORKS Ball, Philip. “Schoenberg, serialism and cognition: Whose fault if No one listens?” Interdisciplinary Science Reviews, Vol.36 No.1, March 2011 Miller G.A. “The magical number seven, plus or minus two; some limits on our capacity for processing information”. Psychological Review 63: 81-96 1956 Adorno, Theodor W., and Rolf Tiedemann. Can One Live after Auschwitz?: A Philosophical Reader. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford UP, 2003. Print. Banks, Louis. "What Is “Modern" Music?" Los Angeles Times, 27 June 1937. Web. 26 Nov. 2014. <http://www.schoenberg.at/index.php? option=com_content&view=article&id=1038&Itemid=709&lang=en> Schoenberg, Arnold, and Leonard Stein. Style and Idea: Selected Writings of Arnold Schoenberg. Berkeley: U of California, 1985. Print. Hahl-Koch, Jelena, ed. Schoenberg-Kandinsky: Letters, Pictures and Documents. Trans. John C. Crawford. Boston: Faber and Faber, 1984. Scofield, Ronald. "Learn to Hear, Says Composer." Santa Barbara News Press 18 July 1948. Web. 26 Nov. 2014. <http://www.schoenberg.at/index.php? option=com_content&view=article&id=1038&Itemid=709&lang=en> Cage, John. "John Cage: An Autobiographical Statement." John Cage. Southwest Review, 1 Jan. 1991. Web. 26 Nov. 2014. <http://johncage.org/autobiographical_statement.html Luque, Sergio. "The Stochastic Synthesis of Iannis Xenakis." Leonardo Music Journal 19 (2009): 77-84. Print. Xenakis, Iannis. Formalized Music; Thought and Mathematics in Composition. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1971. Print. Ayler, Albert. "The Truth Is Marching In." Down Beat 17 Dec. 1966. Web. 30 Nov. 2014 <http://www.ayler.co.uk/html/interview1.html#hentoff>. |
After more than three decades of work in this area it seems plausible to propose that most of the numerology in ancient mythology - and all theology in advanced civilizations - is musically inspired and disciplined.
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opus prima materia
A digressive blog for detritus thoughts on things alchemical, sufi and other esoteric matters.