by Marisa Pesa
I write this music column, yet I can’t really read music… nor can I play a single instrument or sing a note. Do these confessions lessen my credibility as a writer or my integrity as a listener? I hope not.
We are all born with different digit capabilities and vocal ranges. The reason why Bob Dylan is famous (because we know it wasn’t his looks that got him to the top) or why the BeeGees made it big (for a couple seconds at least) is because the majority of people need music manufactured for them. Music is a commodity and good music has always been in high demand.
Thus, music recipients fall into one of either two categories: musicians and non-musicians. While they coexist, you could say that a riff exists between the two species. The standard debate goes a little something like this: how can someone who doesn’t “know” music appreciate it?
Joe, my one of many musician friends, has allowed for music to rule over his life for more than half of his existence. We’ve had some variation of the who-is-allowed-to-appreciate-what conversation countless times and he has confided that while he listens to bands like Radiohead and Rush, the music’s substance and depth goes over his musically adept head. He questions how people akin to me interpret their songs or what we even derive from (what conclusion do we come to after) listening to a masterpiece such as “YYZ.”
His mindset is similar to musicians who argue that non-musicians take for granted or do not entirely grasp the merit of some pieces because their untrained ears listen inertly. Non-musicians get in trouble for listening to songs as a whole or for paying attention to the loudest, most conspicuous rhythm, rather than dissecting a song for all its worth.
I’ll be the first to admit that these accusations are, for the most part, true and well deserved. Someone with no musical background will simply not comprehend the caliber of Chuck Berry’s or Eric Clapton’s craftsmanship as would someone with 12 years of guitar playing under their fingers. We’ll sing along to anything that can keep our attention.
What we common folk tend to appreciate is the lyrics or the emotional connection the music makes for us. Fear not. I won’t rehash the tired argument over what holds more importance, music or lyrics, but what I will compare is tonal quality versus what is actually being sung. When it comes to singers like Tom Yorke, one may never know what he’s slurring, but I feel the way in which his voice cries or laughs reels in both kinds of listeners.
Thus the question stands: what makes a musician? Theoretically, I can be as much as a musician as someone who claims to make music but whose guitar makes noises similar to that of a hacking coyote. More “musicians” inhabit the world than one would imagine. Can a musician even listen to a tune without paying close attention to the time signature or identifying chords? If not, it is the non-musicians who feel for them because they can’t waste time or lose themselves in mundane thought while listening to a tune.
Music can be appreciated in different ways. Not to get too hippie on your asses, but before music was annotated, man still enjoyed a nice little tune. Music is just as relevant to non-musicians, for rhythm and tones are found in everyday life.
Capital is, of course, home to many a musician. I’m surrounded by dub-steppers and jazz cats alike; however, thus far, I haven’t come in contact with an overwhelming amount of snide musicians who believe they are the only ones entitled to enjoy an artist because they can sort of, kind of, almost imitate them.
Regardless of someone’s musical capabilities, everyone is entitled (and encouraged!) to enjoy music in its rawest form. With that being said, everyone is also entitled not to like music. There exist a people out there who casually, suavely say, “I don’t really listen to music.” This I do not understand but will accept, for I wish to not get off topic.
An artist should not make music for the eyes (i.e. Lady Gaga or Miley Cyrus), but for the ears to enjoy; however, one of the best things about a concert is being able to see the relationships on stage. The chemistry between a musician and his instrument, between a singer and the audience, and between the bandmates themselves, is visible to the entire audience, both musically gifted and challenged.
As for how someone can enjoy something if they don’t fully understand its fine points, this question can be applied to any trade. I’d call myself a writer; I’ll be the first to admit there are different ways to read a text.
All in all, I imagine musical shop talk sounds intimidating and pretentious to non-musicians just as much as uncultured comments annoy the shit out of those who’ve dedicated half their lives to perfecting an art. To be plain and simple, I don’t believe that one type of listener holds the authority to label themselves as superior.
by mpesa@capital.edu
