I don't quite remember the circumstances surrounding the epiphany, but one day I realized that music had spun a full 180 on its axis in regards to one particular trait: the solo. The solo of yesteryear, in context of the orchestra or small ensemble, was to isolate not just an instrument but an instrumentalist. In context of 60 musicians this is quite effective in inspiring feelings of isolation, insinuating individualism, or simply getting the passage as quiet as it needs to be. This day and age the solo is seemingly of pure egotism. The long-haired guitarist strikes the rock pose: wide stance, 30 degree bend at the knees, neck bent in the opposite direction, hair dangling in the strings, and then the machine-gun spray of 400 rounds of notes in just under 10 seconds. In that situation the soloist is meant to inspire climax, display powerful imagery, and create a spectacle of bombast that you would expect of a fireworks show.
It's easy to see the evolutionary process of the solo. Guitarists often cite Chuck Berry as a tremendous influence, cross genre and we examine Jazz and its emphasis on the individual in the context of Bebop to present, or trace back a little further to the big band era where Jazz ensembles functioned a little more like Western European symphony orchestras. Then there was the concerto pinning an instrumental soloist against a backing instrument (or orchestra), there was Opera placing emphasis on theatrical representation against orchestrated function, or we can follow the entire lineage of pious chant music and virtuosity being a necessity for melismatic passages. Solos have been with our music tradition since the onset, and I'm sure I'm leaving many practices out. If a tradition such as the solo has remained for so long it only makes sense that it contains an aesthetic that we appreciate. I personally am loathe to solo, but I come from the later generations where soloing is more a display of ego than of skillful orchestral representation. Such is the spectrum of the solo paradigm: Function vs. Ego. Now, as demonstrated above, the guitar solo in all its 180db glory has a function, and as such falls left of ego on the spectrum, but as Chops pointed out earlier, the bipartisan moderate needs to shut up and cut its damn hair. So immediately I'm biased. I prefer community to self, but not everyone does, and as such my opinion won't eliminate shredding in the near future, nor should it. It sounds good to someone, and if it didn't people wouldn't do it. But it makes me wonder about use and overuse.
Another example: loop music. Repetition is a fact of life and inherent in human nature. The cyclical nature of our universe extends from planetary motion to periodic waveforms and all means of energy transference in between. But there's a point when it's lost on the observer. Being an electronic musician I cannot stress enough the importance for loops, and for multiple reasons. Looping short passages gives you a repeating, or periodic, phrase that can be quite useful in other compositional constructs. The art of looping can also give you one less thing to worry about in the context of layering musical gestures, especially since the world of electronic musicians tends to favor "going it solo" instead of communal participation. It has also proven an especially useful tool in dance music where the most important attribute is to keep the asses bumpin' for three minutes before changing over the disc. This period of repetition also serves the DJ well in allowing for many ways with which to incorporate the next cut and avoid lag on the floor. But just as people will often stress emphasis on the personal trifecta of mind-body-spirit, so too can we consider music. To me dance music concerns itself primarily with body and leaves the others to lag behind, just like Bob Dylan doesn't make me dance but hits my heart like a freight train. And there's nothing more intellectually engaging than Rite of Spring, which also happens to demonstrate an extremely effective use of solo with its ethereal bassoon intro. The immediate example of loop-based dance music that comes to mind is Earth, Wind, and Fire's hit "Let's Groove." If there's a dance song that hits harder I haven't heard it. Yet somewhere into the third minute you feel like passing out from a concussion after hitting your head against the same brick wall time and time again. There are minute divisions in that the song has verse, chorus, and refrain, but all occupy the same repeating riff. It's only towards the end of the tune that they come in with a very distinctive bridge, and when it hits it hits HARD, no doubt due to the lengthy repetitions preceding it, but almost to the point of sounding out of place.
So I ask, "When is enough enough?" For a time, and probably still, my philosophy was to state my ideas and then move on or quit. And it work(ed)(s) for me. I live in a punk generation where my peers, and probably myself, have attention issues and seem to be on the more hyperactive side. I think that's why American Punk is so effective, its constructed similarly to traditional songs, but the ideas are simplified and the material passes quickly, making it engaging and entertaining through its duration. But it lacks as well. I find it more the pickled ginger to cleanse the mind, to cycle the ideas quickly and in a sense refreshingly. But where is the balance? Like most, I turn to Beethoven, and as predictable as it is, the 5th Symphony. This is one of the most stunning uses of repetition in Western music literature. The opening motive sustains the material for the entirety of the piece, yet all of it is presented in a way that sounds unique and fresh each time. The song DEVELOPS. IT GOES SOMEWHERE. And when it's done it goes back to the beginning and does it all again, exposing different layers of repetition. And when it's all said and done it presents the material again in a new context, with full orchestra filing out the chords of the motive. That, to me, is effective repetition. Humans have an obvious appreciation of repetition and it is historically present in our approach to mathematics, science, art, dance, music, and really any discipline you can imagine (except chaos theory). Yet there comes a point where we need change. To me, if Beethoven had a groove and good lyrics we'd be out of a job. Oh wait, the Beatles did it. Seriously, perhaps it is a pipe dream to have a music that gives you everything, but as we see that repetition is a pleasing element in human perception we also find an appreciation for balance. Would it not be a feasible goal to strive for the musical tri-chi?
To explain the title of the post, I purposefully did not state "Outdated," but merely dated. These practices of mention do have particular dates of their flourishing and certain aspects of musical creation that propagate them to their fullest. And that's not to say these practices are bad, but what is present in today's American musical climate is an overabundance of these qualities. As your nutritionist says: "Too much of anything is a bad thing." So not only are we all fat but we all listen to bad music as well. It doesn't help that we've had commodified hit-factories ranging from tin-pan alley to Hollywood, and that practice seems to work for the simple fact that it generates a concentration of wealth for the right recipient. But I think, at some point in time, the creation of art was not all about money. Some may disagree, but I remember a day where my crayons were simply a tool of expression and not the wanderlust of fame expressed through wax-strokes. Let's not forget the many positive uses of looping and soloing. Loops can provide drone-like instances, and in intelligent hip hop create a great continuity that draws your focus to the words, and skillful lyricists can intersect these two concepts at engaging points, adding dramatic content to the music. Solos have the ability of stating simply and thus stating powerfully. Perhaps this is the threshold of mastery in our field, the ability to discern taste. In which case I urge you to not be done in by the ruse of commercial culture. These people are no more skillful than a terrorist is a sculptor (of course Karlheinz Stockhausen's point of view, and I cannot disagree, is that mortal sacrifice is the universe's greatest means of performance art).
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4 comments:
Whoa, this post is packed! To parse just a couple ideas out and address them in turn:
Since Beethoven, there has been a bifurcation in many people's thinking between Art with a capital A and the other more worldly and less sublime stuff. Let me explain: until the Romantics came along, music always served a function. Always. Whether that meant the choral accompaniment of Mass on Sunday or the brassy pomp of the king's grand processional, music was composed to enhance events. Indeed, without a discreet purpose, music was seen as meaningless. A good example of this principle can be found in the perception of instrumental music pre-1800ish. Without words, what could music possibly mean? To many, instrumental music was a lower form purely because its meaning was more abstract. More abstract meaning = more diffuse use-value.
With Beethoven the tides shifted suddenly. Because instrumental music is more abstract, it is also more spiritual and sublime (go the Romatics). When this aesthetic shift happened, the bifurcation was complete, with one music reserved for functional worldly events (the lower) and one reserved for enraptured contemplation (the higher). The concert hall became a quasi-religious location, while the streets rang out with the music of the unwashed masses.
Now, of course this addresses the high/low art distinction, but it also gets at something deeper. By the mid 20th century, the split was so deeply engrained that it seemed the only natural way to see music. Hindemith was scorned for creating "music for use" in the 30s; anything that did have a use function seemed to reek of money-driven opportunism. This is the tradition that we today have inherited.
One of the fascinating influences this dichotomy has had on our collective creativity is to ghettoize the "classical" camp into their academia and conservatories, shut away from life. This is the ultimate reflection of Stravinsky's "music for music's sake" or Beethoven's notion that the art stand outside of the world. On the other side of the fence, those musicians who understand that Mother Culture has given them the task of making "pop music" (as opposed to "art music") are just as ghettoized, only this ghetto is dictated by cash flows. Two musics, two ghettos - despite the fact that there is no objective difference between the two camps, it's damn hard to tear down the wall between them.
Back to your post. Two things - (egoistic) soloing and repetition - are now a big part of our music. But let's take away the high-art lens of aloofness from real-world use. Cock rock guitar soloing serves the very real function of getting a crowd worked up; a lot of rock, after all, is musical athletics and sexual display, so a lot of times it is not as much about personal ego as it is about performing a role.
Same with dance music. This is not music for the concert hall, it is music for use. Again, the distinction isn't real but it's still powerful. The creators of that music, while driven by money (as are all artists ever, in one form or another), are equally driven by their role to create music that is appropriate for that space. Of course the repetition is done into the ground, but look at the ceremonial music of groups of people across the globe that features one steady beat for literally days on end. It is a matter of function, and while money plays a role, I don't think it's as big as you perhaps assume. Dance music is electric shamanic ritual.
This is long enough and I haven't even gotten to my second point, let alone present the first one in an articulate way. I'll save that for another post!
I wouldn't know other people's perspectives, but I, as a musician, am constantly undergoing an existential crisis. If nothing else time has dictated that this is who I am and this is what I do. But what's the use? Part of me wants to pilgrimage around the world in search of enlightenment as if my life were written by W. Sommerset Maugham. Part of me wants to put down the gear and till the Earth. It is such a lustful affair I have with sound that it almost feels sinful, even though my ambitions are only to accomplish goodness through sound. And that's one of the ways I justify what I do: Aural Feng Shui. Perhaps the making of music betters people's environment and contributes to mental alleviation. At very least it bears mention that Beethoven does the same for me.
I personally am leery to establish a duality between art and money, of which I hope I state without bias. As I've heard and am repeating, every society on Earth has produced music, which leads me to understand music as a trait of humans (other lifeforms have been observed to demonstrate musical appreciation as well). Money I would more consider a social construct. For awhile now we've had legal tender in society, but that replaced other forms of trade (which, despite what the textbooks say, I do not necessarily find them to be inferior). There are also instances of cultures on the planet that are cooperative and not gains-minded. Money seems to be more a factor of large society. Regardless, yes, money is a large driving factor in the arts, especially in America and Europe. But that doesn't mean they can't exist exclusively of one another.
A question for the folks here to contemplate. How is the duality that metronomikon described affected by the sheer proliferation of music? Every piece of media on film, tv, and to an increasing degree the internet is accompanied by music. Clearly, this is "use" music in the most literal sense of that term, but I think it now goes farther than the pre-Beethoven concept of "use" music, perhaps a duality within "use" music itself. (Sorry Rux, I'm really not such a dualities kind of guy, it just seems like a useful analytical tool in this context)
The idea of "use" music seems to imply that there are times in our life when you have no music. Thus the duality. You have experiences that our mundane, ordinary, and then you have experiences that are enhanced by music. Going to church or seeing the king back in the day was special, so music made it special. And music was expensive! Day to day life pre-20th century was a decidedly un-musical affair.
Now, we cherish as special those moments when we don't have music or sound bombarding us! And, on a deeper level, music has been associated with so many things that we really don't have contexts in our life that are devoid of music. How many times have you been walking down the street listening to music from your [insert portable music device here] and thought, wow it feels like I'm in a movie because I've got this soundtrack going that is enhancing this walk. People may have had work songs and such back in the days, but they never conceived of the soundtrack. Thanks to mass media, we now have music for every context imaginable, walking, eating, sleeping, everything.
Not sure what the implications are of all of this. Just thought I'd toss out these musings to the crowd, to tap into a greater wealth of insight.
Chops, I think you bring up a very interesting point. The concept of "soundtrack" music, or at least the inextricable nature of music's accompaniment to motion picture (whether for spectator purposes like film or interactive like video games) is residual of silent films and musical theater. Not only are there sections of music where lyrical content is directly interwoven in the plot development, but there are also the empty spaces where filler music help carry along the interest. The idea that motion picture has impacted our culture so much as to have us carrying over the soundtrack concept into our daily lives is fascinating, if not creepy as hell.
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