Master Composers - Dysfunctional Men!

Staying with the same topic of the 'G' in music from my last post, there is sometimes an obvious question that could be asked: If music can have such a redeeming influence on man, what explains the clearly dysfunctional lives of many of the great composers and (to extend that further) even some of the great performers of music?

Beethoven confessed that he was misanthropic. Brahms was a recluse. Tchaikovsky contended with frequent bouts of severe depression throughout his life. Schumann went insane and committed suicide.

The explanation that works for me is this: Firstly, God uses 'imperfect vessels' to do His work. That applies not only to leaders and saints, but also to composers, painters, sculptors; in fact to everybody.

That explains the dichotomy of Beethoven’s radiant and mystical Missa Solemnis and his actual double-dealing with several publishers to get this work published for the highest returns. That explains how Wagner could compose some of the most stirring music ever penned and yet be a confirmed anti-Semitic in not only his own beliefs but also in his published writings. That explains how Mozart’s music has a purity far removed from the frequent vulgar jokes that punctuate his many letters.

Secondly, the process of creation (for the composer) or re-creation (for the performer) demands infinitely more from the individual than the process of listening. It is almost as if some of the great composers gave everything they had emotionally, intellectually and sometimes spiritually to their music, that they (and unfortunately those around them, including close family and friends) were left with only the ‘leftovers’.

Finally, it is often the case that composers communicate more intuitively through their music than through social interactions or the written or spoken word. In that sense, their actual self comes out best through their works and 'says' more about them than what they say or do outside of music. It is almost like parallel universes - the mystic reality of the process of composition and the mundane reality of everyday living!

Lasswell's Formula: Making sense of the listening experience

There is a formula I learnt decades ago, when we studied the mechanics of human communication at college. Propounded by Harold Lasswell, this approach to understanding the communication process is actually beautiful in its simplicity.

Lasswell analyzed any communication by asking:
“Who says what, to whom, in what channel, with what effect?”

It seems an appropriate way of looking at the process of appreciating classical music as well!

We could freely translate that formula to:

Who (the composer/performer) says what (the music), to whom (the listener(s)), in what channel (the medium), with what effect (the impact).

Does this simple model of communication help to make more sense of that mysterious process of listening to and enjoying music?

The ‘Peak’ Experience

I have always believed that great classical music helps us transcend our own limitations. This is most obvious in the state of rapture that some listeners reach when completely immersed in the music they are listening to. But there are some thoughts I wanted to share on this by first deconstructing the most common myth surrounding the ‘peak’ experiences in listening to classical music - that the peak experience is akin to some sort of spiritual orgasm or nirvana that takes you well and truly out of this world. That it is a tried and tested method of jettisoning your mind out of reality.

Listening to classical music is not escapism. It is not an aid to forgetting, to dodging the pain or confusion of our everyday lives, or to numbing ourselves to the cut and thrust of life’s challenges. Classical music is not some drug to induce a temporary ‘high’.

If that qualifies what the peak experience is not, then what exactly would we say this experience is? I would suggest that the peak experience in listening to great classical music is one that stirs the mind, heart and soul to a new level of awareness.

Let me elaborate.

If you notice, I have inserted the word ‘great’ before classical music. That implies some distinction between shall we say, run-of-the-mill music and the truly enduring and significant works in the repertoire. While run-of-the-mill works can engage and excite for sure, I would suggest that in most such cases the weakness of the piece either in inspiration or organization precludes the ability to ‘throw’ the listener to a new level of awareness.

Secondly, the operative word is to ‘stir’. The implication is that the peak experience results in not only a mixing up (re-organizing) of some of the emotions and thoughts in us, but also an awakening or rousing-up that takes us to a new level of awareness. This stirring is not something we may recognize on a conscious level, but it is I would think an intrinsic character of the peak experience.

Finally, the peak experience takes mind, heart and soul to ‘a new level of awareness’. This is not to imply that listening to the Bach’s B Minor Mass unlocks the secrets of eternity to the tuned-in listener or that listening to Beethoven’s late string quartets or piano sonatas reveals to us the meaning of human suffering. They might and they often do (far be it from me to set a limit to what the peak experience can do!!). But when we say ‘a new level of awareness’, it could simply be a greater mindfulness of our own spiritual nature, a better perspective on what matters most to and in our lives, a deeper appreciation of the beauty in life, a gentler view of ourselves, a more forgiving view of our world, a more optimistic view of our chances battling our own challenges, a renewed relationship with our God, a renewed relationship with ourselves, or simply a joy that heals. After all, the word ‘peak’ implies reaching a point from where the view is different!

These are the new levels of awareness that religious retreats aim to achieve, that self-development workshops and books promise and that every individual seeks in some way or the other. And this is the peak experience that listening to great classical music can achieve.

We mentioned ‘mind, heart and soul’. So let us be clear, the peak experience is not some emotional high that makes you tearful, delirious or ecstatic merely for emotion’s sake. Great classical music engages mind, heart and soul to take us to a new understanding. Like that view from the mountain top, it has a way of putting things in perspective. No wonder then that the Hindu Goddess of music, Saraswathi, is also the Goddess of wisdom!

Why is Classical Music different?

A few aspects of classical music make it different from most other genres; especially the mainstream pop music genre.

Classical music pieces are typically:
1. Longer than most music pieces of other genres
2. Highly organized in terms of structure
3. Specified in terms of notation and method of performance

When I say long, what do I mean?

An unconfirmed story tells me that just before the compact disc was first released, its maximum playing time was raised from the initially planned 60 minutes to 74 minutes after Sony’s Vice President Nori Ohga insisted that it be able to accommodate the entire Ninth Symphony of Beethoven.

The typical pop song runs from anywhere between three minutes to eight minutes. In classical music, that timeframe would only accommodate minuets, etudes, ditties, miscellaneous parlour tunes, perhaps some waltzes, fantasies and the like. The typical symphony or concerto on the other hand is anywhere between 20 to 45 minutes long. The invitation is not so much to chat for a while and then shake hands, but rather to go on a fairly long walk; a journey as it were. Techno music can have tracks that run for 45 minutes, but their fabric is clearly based on repetition and inducing a trance-like state in the listener.

That brings me to the second distinction; the highly organized structure of classical music. Leaving aside the simple monophonic (plain melody without harmony) style of the medieval chant, one of classical music’s great attractions is the beauty that comes from creating various harmonies on a melody or various melodies in counterpoint or various and dramatic key changes within a piece. Where a typical pop track would have a lead singer with backup vocals singing in harmony, with possibly one key, modulated once or twice into a new key and an ensemble of guitars, percussion and assorted instruments, a typical symphony would have a 70-100-member orchestra with first violins, second violins, violas, cellos, double bass, woodwind, brass, percussion – all sections playing not necessarily the same melody or in the same rhythm, not necessarily in the same key, following very specific notation and a highly sophisticated organization of layered music with an astonishing number of changes in key, pace, volume and intonation.

To look at a famous (and perhaps extreme) example of the forces involved, Mahler’s Eighth Symphony was dubbed the ‘Symphony of a Thousand’ because of the huge number of musicians it called for (850 singers organized in various choirs and 171 orchestral players in the premiere performance of this symphony, conducted by the composer himself).

And before anybody goes off thinking that the complexity in classical music boils down to the number of voices or instruments used, let us not forget that ensemble pieces are not all there is to classical music. The ‘Chaconne’ (that is the last movement of Bach’s Partita Number 2 in D minor for solo violin) shows what the genius of Bach could do with just a solo instrument. Unlike the piano, which gives the composer the benefit of being able to sound out ten different notes at the same time, the violin is typically played one string at a time with the option for double-stopped playing i.e. two strings bowed at the same time or triple and quadruple-stopped playing which in fact are the result of moving the bow swiftly across the first set of double stops and onto the next string or pair to make it sound as one. Bach, with the apparently paltry forces of a single violin, composes a monumental piece of variations, encompassing a virtual universe of emotions and insight; not to mention presenting significant technical and artistic challenges for the violinist to contend with in performing this piece.

The only other genre that has comparable length in its pieces and in the level of organization of the music is, it seems to me, Indian Hindustani or Carnatic music, where the performance of a single raga can unfold over the span of 30 to 45 minutes and involves little or no actual repetition, but rather a mind boggling combination of elaboration, ornamentation, variation and improvisation.

But this blog focuses on the so-called "Western" Classical Music genre. So that is where we will stay.

Music: Elusive but Ubiquitous

Most of you will agree that music is one of mankind’s most dependable companions through life’s decisive moments. It certainly has been for me.

It accompanies the celebration of a baptism, a birthday, a wedding, an anniversary, a march into battle. It also sustains us as we grieve at funerals. And beyond the decisive moments, music is also with us in the everyday moments. It is part of worship in churches, mosques and temples. It is the lifeblood of a carnival, it is that ‘very personal’ song between lovers, it is the throbbing beat from spectators at a sporting event, the anthem we sing, the background score to the films we watch, the insidious, and sometimes, irritating ambient tracks in a lift or lobby, the live music in a concert hall, at a party or from a busker on the street, the bedtime song we sing our children, the whistling in the dark, the singing in the shower, the aerobics accompaniment, on the car radio, on home stereos, on personal headphones; in fact you can think of hundreds of different scenarios where music is part of our lives.

Most of you will also agree that music is universal, in the sense that in some form or the other, it is created, performed and enjoyed across races and cultures. Afro, bhangra, bel canto, boogie, bolero, calypso, carnatic, celtic, cha-cha, flamenco, ghazal, hillybilly, hindustani, polka, qawwali, rumba, salsa, samba, swing…the exercise of simply listing out some music styles throws up a rainbow of impressions of each culture and geography that gave birth to each of these genres.

Again most of you will agree that music finds a way to connect with people, through different forms or genre. It could be the chart-topping pop number that is the current favourite on the dance floor or the rock song that has ‘protest’ written all over it, it could be the monumental symphony in a classical music concert or the smooth and easy sound of a jazz band, it could be the raw and simple refrain from a folk song or the adrenalin-pumping soundtrack of a film score. (Please overlook the stereotyping implied in many of these phrases relating to various genres; they are only indicative of common impressions of various genres. By no means can they be taken to encompass the essence of each genre; the generalist adjectives used here are only in the interest of brevity of expression).

Finally, you will agree that music impacts us significantly. Human beings connect and respond instinctively to music. After all, the unborn baby hears long before it sees. And right through every stage of life, music exerts a mysterious, but real power to excite, arouse, enthrall, soothe, reassure, inspire and lift us.

But I think you may also agree that music’s impact varies based on the person and the context, and that impact itself could be of different levels and types. What is difficult to do is to actually understand this impact of music on our lives. This is because music is in itself a virtually formless force. It is not a painting you can appraise at a glance or a piece of sculpture you can touch, it is not a building you can walk through, it is not a culinary delight you can taste. In fact, if you think of it, music does not even exist in the moment; and what I mean by that is – at any given point in time, you are hearing one note or notes and the melody is experienced only by linking it what came before and what comes after that note or notes. You cannot hear a whole symphony in a second; unlike looking at and appreciating a painting in a second. So, if we did not have the faculty of memory, we would not appreciate the melody or the structure of a piece.

And the peak experiences in music listening are often characterized by their inexplicable nature. Ask anybody to describe exactly what and how they felt (when they experienced music in a deeply moving manner) and you are likely to get a garbled mix of expressions that do not clearly explain what the nature or meaning of the experience was.

Why bother with Classical Music?

Does classical music mean anything at all? Does it matter?

Of course, you may say, it matters. It matters that Beethoven wrote his last string quartets, it matters that Mozart wrote his ‘Requiem’, it matters that Bach wrote his ‘Art of Fugue’.

But let me rephrase – Does classical music matter in the larger scheme of things?

“What scheme?” you ask.

So let me elaborate.

Does it matter to a parent who loses his child to drugs that Schubert’s ‘Unfinished Symphony’ is a ‘complete’ masterpiece in itself? Does it matter to a community grieving over a senseless act of terrorism, that Shostakovich penned his brilliant ‘Festive Overture’ in a matter of minutes while chatting to a friend and smoking? Does it matter to a war-ravaged village that Handel composed his ‘Messiah’ when he was blind and broke? Does it matter to a terminally-ill patient that Mahler left unnumbered his actual ninth symphony because no composer since Beethoven had successfully completed more than nine symphonies before dying? Does it matter to a country plundered by its ruthless dictator that Stravinsky’s ballet music ‘The Rite of Spring’ provoked a riot at its first performance because it was so far ahead of its time? Does it matter to investors, who see their life savings wiped out in a stock market crash, that that the fourteen-year-old Mozart first heard the ‘Miserere’ by Allegri on a visit to Rome, and wrote it down entirely from memory soon after hearing it (which the church at that time forbade anybody to transcribe)?

The larger scheme of things! The big picture! In that context, is music a ‘must-have’ or a ‘good-to-have’? When the most basic needs are in peril or unmet, what good is music?