Music can affect you in a profound way, even if you don’t consider yourself a musician. We all have a capacity to relate to the art form we call “music,” in a western tradition a combination of rhythm, harmony, melody, and the timbre or color of instruments, voices, and sometimes, non-musical sounds.
I recently became aware of a growing number of adult lovers of music who, to connect with music, and specifically here I’m referring to classical music (in the more general sense), go online to write about the music, their experience with the music, or the composers of the music. No matter the specific realm of these writings, whether they are off the cuff “blog posts” or more formally structured affairs, I see the production and sharing of writing about music by non-(professional) musicians as a type of desire to connect with the music in a more meaningful way. There’s something to say about using your own writing as a type of sense-making about a particular topic. For instance, if I just encountered, say, Mozart’s 20th piano concerto and think it’s the most awesome thing ever, I can go to an online forum of some kind (okay, Facebook) and write about my own personal discovery of this amazing work. And other such enthusiasts, whether or not they’ve published before, can join into the fray of the conversation, agreeing, disagreeing, or better, sharing with me another great work that’s new to me. I’m sharing my experience for the benefit of many, and the best value-add for me is the discovery of new perspectives, works, composers, and overall, more music to enjoy.
It’s no wonder people go online to write about this stuff. Myself, included. Someone once asked me why I write reviews. My first thought to that question is that I used to read reviews religiously in college when I had access to all the classical magazines at the music library. (I should have been practicing, to be honest.) I do believe one of my gifts is having a critical ear and mindset and I like to apply that to what I hear. While I am not actively writing other reviews currently, I could just as easily force my hand at writing critical reviews of food, restaurants, and wine. (Once I did publish a review of a restaurant where things had not gone well and my review comments were stuffed with threats from the waitstaff; alas, I have gotten out of the restaurant review game for now.)
To be sure, every music lover doesn’t write about music. Some collect records or recordings; some are active concert-goers, and some of us do all of these things to get closer to something we love.
A friend shared with me the writings of someone he’d come across who was critical not of music, but these music enthusiast writers. Of why those chose to focus on anything other than exploring the genius of composers like Mozart. I think we could go further and take away the writing part. I think his beef was with why anyone would spend their precious hours of free time listening to anything but the top-tier pieces in the canon of classical repertoire. It’s a reasonable question for someone who isn’t a music enthusiast. I can extend this notion to other disciplines.
- Why drive anything but the very best cars?
- Why drink wine other than that from the best vintages and locations?
- Why sleep in anything but the softest, most comfortable bedding?
There will always be friction in defining the “best” of course, and especially so when the needle for the best keeps moving. The state-of-the-art CD player in 1989 is really not in the same class with the best from, say, 2021. But let’s assume the needle isn’t moving. Do my three examples make sense to you?
“Yes, John, that makes sense. But I can think of two counter arguments. One applies to music, the other applies to my wallet.”
Ah, yes. Fine wine, sports cars, and even high thread-count sheets all cost more money and our cash is a limited resource. But $20 at a used CD store will net you 2-3 albums and there the economics don’t apply so easily. You could pick Mozart, Beethoven, two solid contenders for the best of the best. Why stray?
So what’s the counterargument that applies to music?
“So, I mean, if all you drink is wine from Chateau d’Yquem all the time, you’ll over time lose the potential to recognize what makes that house so special. Extraordinary things are only extra in the face of more common things. For me, I’ll save my bottle of Yquem for a special dessert on my 50th birthday. Otherwise, I’ll enjoy more affordable wine that frankly better matches the taste of typical dinners.”
Ah, I see your point. That Mozart might have a heightened impact on me if I start, maybe, with a Haydn quartet, then chase the piano concerto with a few sonatas by Scarlatti. All three famous musician-composers, you’re saying I’ll enjoy the Mozart even more?”
“Maybe. I’m just saying. You can’t use a Ferrari as your commuter car and you can’t drink dessert wine all the time.”
I see the merit in this idea. But I can’t help but also think that there’s just too much good music to be heard and appreciated. Why limit yourself to just the so-called top-tier composers? Music is more than just a person’s style, taste, and genius at writing melodies, harmonies, and rhythms. Music is a reflection of its time, it’s about pragmatic, real-life things, like writing music you were hired to write, which is reflective of the composer’s economic situation. The easiest way to transport myself to the earlier twentieth century Paris is to listen to Edith Piaf. Right?
“Oh, that’s another can of worms. He’s complaining about people writing about composer’s lives instead of their music. He can’t stand discussions about what, say, Stravinsky liked to eat for dinner!”
It’s hard to say if what any composer ate for dinner has a profound effect on their art, but again, I think it speaks to a music enthusiast’s desire to get closer to this thing they so enjoy. Knowing as much as you can about a person who today is profoundly impacting your life, despite living in another century? That’s kind of cool.
When I watched the movie about Philip Glass? I saw him making pizzas in his vacation house in Canada, with his family. That was cool. I thought, Philip Glass eats pizza. He’s just like me. Our friend may dismiss this discussion of the Glass family pizza eating as esoteric trivia, but for me helps me understand this living composer in a different way. Does it change the music? Probably not. But maybe it does change the way I hear it. Picturing Philip Glass drinking champagne and eating caviar while I listen to his piano etudes isn’t the right aesthetic. Instead, after seeing the interior of his home office and piano in that movie, I picture him there, looking out a window into a New York streetscape. It doesn’t change the notes on the page, but it changes me experience hearing his music. I can’t deny that.
“I think he has an expectation that writing about music should always reveal what makes the music, well, great.”
I smile. I wonder if this guy knows he doesn’t have to read what he doesn’t like? But to his point, I do find videos and writing (too) interesting when someone goes out of their way to try and objectively demonstrate why something is, well, great. That’s what I try to do with my reviews. But I am not always objective. But at least I’m clear about things.
“You’re not objective?”
I have personal memories and connections with music that sometimes I share. The concerto Bach wrote for four harpsichords will forever be important to me for reasons that have nothing to do with Bach or the notes on the page. That music, like all music I really enjoy, becomes a part of me. I didn’t need to compose it or perform it and yet it still can become part of me. It’s hard sometimes to let that go. If the music makes me smile, cry, or to think of all matter of interesting visual patterns when I close my eyes? I want to share that. It says something when art has this capacity to move us.
But objectivity is at the heart of understanding why art can be universally good art. It’s not enough that everyone goes to see the Mona Lisa at the Louvre museum. We want to understand why she has that draw. What makes her great?
“There’s a history behind that painting, through. It was stolen, did you know that?”
I do. And for sure, many will listen to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons or Beethoven’s Fifth symphony because of these works ultra-famous stature in the canon. But let’s get back to what makes something great.
Let me take something by Mozart, since this writer you mention likes Mozart. In his Jupiter symphony Mozart gives us a number of different melodic themes and then at the end he does something unusual: he takes them all like little puzzle pieces and puts them together in different permutations to show off, so we think, his ability at counterpoint. His new obsession with it was after his discovery of Bach’s music. The same bug bit Haydn. I get goosebumps every time I hear the ending not because of the music itself; it’s because I remember analyzing the finale of that symphony and seeing with my own eyes, score in hand, just what a feat it was to put those themes together, or more rightly, that Mozart had fit them together before he set about to write the movement. It showed me Mozart as a calculator, one who had a bit of an ego and maybe liked a bit of humor. “Well, look at that, Costanze, see what I did there? Aren’t I clever, sis?” Understanding the mechanics, of how the structure is put together, for me, is one way to answer the question about what makes it special; just the same, I am sure for those who understand car engines, one could admire the engineering of a Ferrari engine. It’s just fast, it’s how they make it so fast.
“Do you like that symphony because of the memory of the discovery? Or because Mozart was so clever with those themes?”
I’d say both explanations are at play. My own emotions aside, my sense of musical preference and style like that symphony. Mozart picked interesting themes, the structure he uses provides a build up to a development which is interesting, and the coda is both unexpected and illustrates to us his extreme craft. It’s kind of like opening a bottle of Chateau d’Yquem at a big birthday dinner.
“So, do you read what people write about music? More specifically, their thoughts and reactions to discovering masterworks?”
Typically only people I know personally and respect, or those who are professionals who can help educate me. I am not sure I’d necessarily come across your friend’s writings unless you’d shared them.
“He’s not my friend, just someone I follow.”
It is sometimes easier to subscribe than unsubscribe to people online, isn’t it?
音乐可以深刻地影响你，即使你不认为自己是音乐家。我们都有能力与我们所称之为“音乐”的艺术形式产生联系，在西方传统中，这是由节奏、和声、旋律和乐器、声音和有时候非音乐的声音的音色组合而成。
我最近意识到，越来越多的音乐爱好者，特别是我在这里所指的“古典音乐”（在更广义上的概念中），会上网写关于音乐、他们对音乐的体验，或音乐作曲家的文章，为了与音乐建立联系。无论这些文章的具体领域是什么，无论它们是即兴的“博客文章”还是更正式的结构化事务，我认为非（专业）音乐家的音乐写作与分享是一种更有意义地联系音乐的渴望。对于使用你自己的写作作为一种对特定主题的感知的说法，我们可以有所思考。例如，如果我刚刚接触了莫扎特的第20钢琴协奏曲，认为它是最棒的作品，我可以去某种在线论坛（好吧，Facebook）写下我对这个惊人作品的个人发现。其他的爱好者，无论他们是否曾经发表过作品，都可以加入到对话中，赞同、反对，或者更好的是，与我分享其他新的、值得欣赏的作品、作曲家和整个更多的音乐。
难怪人们会上网写这些东西。包括我自己。有人曾经问过我为什么要写评论。对于这个问题，我的第一个想法是当我在大学时有机会接触到音乐图书馆的所有古典杂志时，我曾经虔诚地阅读评论。我相信我的天赋之一是拥有批判性的耳朵和思维方式，我喜欢将这种思维方式应用到我所听到的音乐中。虽然我目前并没有写其他评论，但我可以很容易地迫使自己写有关食物、餐厅和葡萄酒的批判性评论。（曾经我发表过一篇餐厅评论，事情并不顺利，我的评论充满了来自服务员的威胁；不幸的是，我现在已经退出了餐厅评论游戏。）
為了確保，每一位音樂愛好者都不一定寫關於音樂的文章。有些人收集唱片或錄音，有些人是熱衷於參加音樂會的人，有些人則做所有這些事情，以更貼近他們所愛的東西。
一位朋友向我分享了他所接觸到的某個人的寫作，該人並不是對音樂本身持批評態度，而是對這些音樂愛好者作家持批評態度。對於那些選擇專注於探索像莫扎特這樣的作曲家的天才之外的任何事情的人，他們為什麼要這樣做，我認為我們可以更進一步地去除寫作部分。我認為他的問題在於為什麼任何人都要花費寶貴的空閒時間去聆聽除了古典樂重要曲目中的頂尖曲目之外的任何東西。對於一個不是音樂愛好者的人來說，這是一個合理的問題。我可以將這種觀念擴展到其他學科。
為什麼要開除了最好的車之外的任何東西？
為什麼要喝除了最好年份和產地之外的葡萄酒？
為什麼要睡除了最柔軟、最舒適的床上用品之外的任何東西？
當然，定義“最好”的標準始終存在摩擦，尤其是當“最好”的標準不斷變化時。1989年的最先進CD播放器與2021年的最好播放器的差距已經非常明顯。但是讓我們假設這個標準不會改變。我的三個例子對您有意義嗎？
“是的，約翰，這很有道理。但我可以想到兩個反駁的觀點。一個適用於音樂，另一個適用於我的錢包.”
啊，是的。優質的葡萄酒、跑車甚至高級床上用品都需要更多的金錢，而我們的現金是有限的資源。但在二手CD店花20美元就可以買到2-3張專輯，因此經濟因素並不是那麼重要。你可以選擇莫札特、貝多芬這兩位最佳作曲家的代表作，而不必探尋其他作品。那麼，針對音樂，有什麼反駁的觀點呢？
“如果你總是喝來自伊甘堡的酒，那麼你最終可能會失去辨識伊甘堡特色的能力。非凡的事物只有在與更普通的事物相比時才顯得特別。對我來說，我會把我那瓶伊甘堡留到50歲生日時享用作為特別的甜點酒。否則，我會享受價格更實惠，更符合晚餐口味的葡萄酒。”
啊，我明白了。你的意思是如果我從海頓的弦樂四重奏開始，接著聽幾首斯卡拉蒂的鋼琴奏鳴曲，再來欣賞莫札特的鋼琴協奏曲，這三位著名的音樂家-作曲家，你說我會更喜歡莫札特的音樂？
“也许吧，我只是这么说。你不能把法拉利当作通勤车，也不能一直喝甜酒。”
我理解这个想法的价值。但我也不能不去想，有太多好听且值得欣赏的音乐。为什么要限制自己只听所谓的顶尖作曲家的作品？音乐不仅仅是一个人的风格、品味和写旋律、和声和节奏的天赋。音乐反映了时代，它是关于实用的现实生活，比如写自己被雇用写的音乐，这反映了作曲家的经济状况。我最容易把自己带到二十世纪早期的巴黎，就是听Edith Piaf的歌曲。对吧？
“哦，那又是另一个问题了。他抱怨人们谈论作曲家的生活而不是他们的音乐。他受不了讨论比如斯特拉文斯基晚餐吃什么！”
很難說任何作曲家晚餐吃了什麼對他們的藝術有深遠的影響，但我認為這反映了音樂愛好者希望更接近這件他們如此喜愛的事物的渴望。了解一個今天仍然對你的生活產生深刻影響的人的盡可能多的信息，儘管他生活在另一個世紀？這很酷。
當我觀看有關Philip Glass的電影時，我看到他在加拿大度假屋裡和家人一起做披薩。那很酷。我想：Philip Glass 吃披薩。他就像我一樣。 我們的朋友可能會認為關於 Glass 家人吃披薩的討論是奧妙難解的琐事，但對我來說，這有助於以不同的方式了解這位現代作曲家。這會改變音樂嗎？可能不會。但也許它會改變我聽音樂的方式。當我聆聽他的鋼琴練習曲時，想像Philip Glass在喝香檳和吃魚子醬並不是正確的美學。相反，在看到他的家庭辦公室和鋼琴的內部之後，我想像他在那裡，透過窗戶望著紐約的街景。這不會改變樂譜上的音符，但它會改變我聆聽他的音樂的體驗。我不能否認這一點。
“我認為他期望關於音樂的寫作應該總是揭示了什麼讓音樂變得優秀。”
我微笑了。我想知道這個人是否知道他不必閱讀他不喜歡的內容？但就他的觀點而言，我發現當有人盡力試圖客觀地展示為什麼某件事物很優秀時，視頻和寫作（也是）很有趣。這就是我試圖在我的評論中做的事情。但我並不總是客觀的。但至少我對事情很清楚。
“你不客观吗？”
我对音乐有个人的回忆和联系，有时会分享出来。巴赫为四个大键琴而写的协奏曲对我来说永远都很重要，但这与巴赫或谱面上的音符无关。所有我真正喜欢的音乐都成为了我的一部分。我不需要创作或演奏它，但它仍然可以成为我一部分。有时候放下这些个人情感会很难。如果这首音乐让我微笑、哭泣，或者想象出各种有趣的视觉图案，那我想分享一下。当艺术有这种能力感动我们时，这说明了什么。
但客观性是理解为什么艺术可以成为普遍良好艺术的核心。仅仅因为每个人都去卢浮宫博物馆看蒙娜丽莎是不够的。我们想要了解她为什么如此吸引人。是什么让她变得伟大？
“这幅画背后有一个故事，你知道吗？它被盗了。”
我知道。当然，许多人会听维瓦尔第的《四季》或贝多芬的《第五交响曲》，因为这些作品在经典作品中极为著名。但让我们回到什么让一件事物变得伟大的问题。
讓我來介紹莫札特的一件作品，因為你提到的這位作家喜歡莫札特。在他的《朱庇特交響曲》中，莫札特呈現了許多不同的旋律主題，最後他做了一些不尋常的事情：他像拼圖一樣將它們全部拼湊在一起，呈現不同的排列組合，這表現了他在對位法方面的能力，讓我們想起他因發現巴赫的音樂而對此產生了熱情。同樣的熱情也感染了海頓。每次我聽到那個結尾都會起雞皮疙瘩，不是因為音樂本身，而是因為我記得分析那首交響曲的結尾，手裡拿著樂譜，看到他如何將這些主題拼湊在一起，或者更恰當地說，莫札特在寫這個樂章之前就已經將它們拼湊好了。這讓我看到莫札特是一個計算器，一個有些自負，也許喜歡一些幽默的人。“嘿，康斯坦茨，看看那個，你看我幹的好，是不是很聰明？”對我來說，理解這個結構的機制是回答什麼使它特別的問題的一種方式；同樣地，我相信對於那些了解汽車引擎的人來說，他們可以欣賞法拉利引擎的工程。它很快，就是因為他們使它變得如此快。
“你喜歡那首交響曲是因為發現的回憶嗎？還是因為莫札特用那些主題很聰明？”
我想说两种解释都是在起作用。抛开我的情感不谈，我对音乐的喜好和风格喜欢那个交响曲。莫扎特选了有趣的主题，他所使用的结构提供了一个有趣的发展，尾声既出人意料又向我们展示了他极高的技艺。这有点像在大型生日晚宴上开一瓶Chateau d’Yquem葡萄酒。
“那么，你会阅读别人对音乐的写作吗？更具体地说，他们对探索名作的想法和反应？”
通常只有我认识和尊重的人，或者那些可以帮助我学习的专业人士。我不确定我是否会看到你朋友的写作，除非你分享给我。
“他不是我的朋友，只是我关注的一个人。”
有时候订阅比取消订阅网上的人更容易，是吧？
