I know what you mean about how hard it is to separate the heart from the head sometimes. The Bach example is a good one. Counterpoint got a bit of a bad rap with the Romantics--they called it "the learned music," implying that it is academic and perhaps overly wonky, maybe proto-proggish, to use a current example--but I find many contrapuntal works (by Bach and his successors, Beethoven, Brahms, Mendelssohn, many others) to be extremely moving. Do I feel more emotionally moved by a Bach fugue or "Don't Stop Believin'"--there's no question about heart or head. I'll pick that fugue every time!
I've always loved counterpoint - I imagine it goes back to my choir years in grade and high school. We didn't use it a lot, but it was a lot of fun when it came around. "Don't Stop Believin" may be a bad example, since it's so clearly awful. (laughter emoji) For me, it could be a question of Bach vs. "In the Court of the Crimson King" or maybe an Art Ensemble of Chicago record. Or, instead of the Shaggs, I wish she had used an example of something clearly emotionally powerful, but simple as almost anything, like "Big Boss Man" by Jimmy Reed. Would I prefer Bach to that? Hard to say - my gut tells me they both would be profound.
Does she touch on the idea of “branding” i.e. choosing your personal brand and having it more-or-less exclusively defined by one particular musical genre? The Punk Rock explosion comes to mind, but there are others.
She doesn't use that word, but she does cite an example of a student of hers whose entire musical connection is to reggae and only reggae. The chicken and egg question is what comes first - hearing this particular genre or being predisposed to the elements of the genre.
I can't imagine seeing things while listening to music. I see nothing in my head when I hear music. I feel like it's all sound, sounds that just happened, sounds now, and most deliciously, sounds I anticipate! And when the music rewards my intelligence by giving me what I expect, I love it, and when it delights me with surprises I admire it. Also why live music is crucial to me: I need to see highly intellectual music played to really feel what's going on.
I think it's interesting that the people who have spoken to me about visualizing while listening - admittedly that's only a handful of people - are all with me on the no visuals side. I am pretty sure my personal listener profile has me loving the surprises and admiring the expectations, but that's part of the point of the book. We're all different. I love watching musicians play, but more to see what they're doing than to help me feel anything, so your point is fascinating to me.
When I see the SLSO playing a difficult modern piece I’m often thrilled. When I hear it on the radio, I’m often confused and grow inattentive. Only repeated listening to a piece like this will overcome the handicap of not knowing which sections are doing what because the modern composers have orchestral tricks that are not part of my listener’s toolbox.
I lost a bit of enthusiasm as I moved through the book. I pretty completely agree with you about her perception of critics' interests, and (also as I think you're pointing out) I got frustrated with her separations, most of which Robert Pirsig would certainly have questioned. Overall, though, I did like it, and was thinking of building a class around it--I am teaching an asynchronous pop music class this summer and I haven't decided exactly what to do yet. The book offers all kinds of neat possibilities for activities and learning. Thanks for the hat-tip!
Thanks for the recommendation. I will probably get around to that J Dilla book eventually, too, but I'm taking a break from recent stuff to catch up on one of the many, many piles of books I've acquired from thrift stores and estate sales. As for her binary distinctions, I think she makes sense, though there are probably some others that might be more interesting. She seems dismissive of free jazz, saying something like "there be dangers" when you get all the way to the right of that particular line. I think there are probably real dichotomies between people who prefer music with a limited harmonic palette and an unlimited one, possibly even greater than the melodic interests she describes.
I know what you mean about how hard it is to separate the heart from the head sometimes. The Bach example is a good one. Counterpoint got a bit of a bad rap with the Romantics--they called it "the learned music," implying that it is academic and perhaps overly wonky, maybe proto-proggish, to use a current example--but I find many contrapuntal works (by Bach and his successors, Beethoven, Brahms, Mendelssohn, many others) to be extremely moving. Do I feel more emotionally moved by a Bach fugue or "Don't Stop Believin'"--there's no question about heart or head. I'll pick that fugue every time!
I've always loved counterpoint - I imagine it goes back to my choir years in grade and high school. We didn't use it a lot, but it was a lot of fun when it came around. "Don't Stop Believin" may be a bad example, since it's so clearly awful. (laughter emoji) For me, it could be a question of Bach vs. "In the Court of the Crimson King" or maybe an Art Ensemble of Chicago record. Or, instead of the Shaggs, I wish she had used an example of something clearly emotionally powerful, but simple as almost anything, like "Big Boss Man" by Jimmy Reed. Would I prefer Bach to that? Hard to say - my gut tells me they both would be profound.
Does she touch on the idea of “branding” i.e. choosing your personal brand and having it more-or-less exclusively defined by one particular musical genre? The Punk Rock explosion comes to mind, but there are others.
She doesn't use that word, but she does cite an example of a student of hers whose entire musical connection is to reggae and only reggae. The chicken and egg question is what comes first - hearing this particular genre or being predisposed to the elements of the genre.
I can't imagine seeing things while listening to music. I see nothing in my head when I hear music. I feel like it's all sound, sounds that just happened, sounds now, and most deliciously, sounds I anticipate! And when the music rewards my intelligence by giving me what I expect, I love it, and when it delights me with surprises I admire it. Also why live music is crucial to me: I need to see highly intellectual music played to really feel what's going on.
I think it's interesting that the people who have spoken to me about visualizing while listening - admittedly that's only a handful of people - are all with me on the no visuals side. I am pretty sure my personal listener profile has me loving the surprises and admiring the expectations, but that's part of the point of the book. We're all different. I love watching musicians play, but more to see what they're doing than to help me feel anything, so your point is fascinating to me.
When I see the SLSO playing a difficult modern piece I’m often thrilled. When I hear it on the radio, I’m often confused and grow inattentive. Only repeated listening to a piece like this will overcome the handicap of not knowing which sections are doing what because the modern composers have orchestral tricks that are not part of my listener’s toolbox.
I lost a bit of enthusiasm as I moved through the book. I pretty completely agree with you about her perception of critics' interests, and (also as I think you're pointing out) I got frustrated with her separations, most of which Robert Pirsig would certainly have questioned. Overall, though, I did like it, and was thinking of building a class around it--I am teaching an asynchronous pop music class this summer and I haven't decided exactly what to do yet. The book offers all kinds of neat possibilities for activities and learning. Thanks for the hat-tip!
Thanks for the recommendation. I will probably get around to that J Dilla book eventually, too, but I'm taking a break from recent stuff to catch up on one of the many, many piles of books I've acquired from thrift stores and estate sales. As for her binary distinctions, I think she makes sense, though there are probably some others that might be more interesting. She seems dismissive of free jazz, saying something like "there be dangers" when you get all the way to the right of that particular line. I think there are probably real dichotomies between people who prefer music with a limited harmonic palette and an unlimited one, possibly even greater than the melodic interests she describes.