He Who Hath Ears to Hear...

I didn't expect to get so sappy this early into my blogging career, but a couple of weeks ago I was treated to a type of music we don't notice most of the time. It's the kind of moment when the music you hear isn't strictly audible. My Bishop approached me one night as I was meditating in an LDS Temple on spiritual matters. He knew I was a composer, and that night he whispered, "This is the best kind of music, isn't it?"

One of the dangers music majors face in their first two years of study is the feeling that their favorite hobby is becoming flat and mathematical. They lose the concept that real music has an essence only describable in flowery language. Sometimes the essence included in a performance is so powerful that every finger slip, every clumsy note is forgiven.

The first time I heard such music I was sixteen. Visiting my family in Mexico, I went to church with them each Sunday. The pianist was absent one week, and the congregation sang A Capella. Everyone seemed to sing in a different key, and was out of tune in their respective key. But they sang because it was time to sing. It was beautiful.

The essence they added to the music they sang was a small part of themselves. As an example, think of the movieWALL-E. The voice of the ship's Autopilot (the steering wheel) was provided by a Macintalk--a computer-generated voice replicator. Zero personality, zero life in the lines it read. Everyone else in the movie had a variety of expression because of the mind and heart of the voice actor. Sound, at its core, is caused by vibrating the air. Vibrations caused by a lifeless object sound austere compared to vibrations caused by a living creature. The brain affects the vibrating we create very subtly depending on whether we're happy, hungry, or haughty. This is the part of a performance that separates a technically flawless performance from a deeper musical experience.

There was a talent show recently in my ward. Most people think of art when they think of talent, especially music. We heard quite a few songs, including an original by yours truly. I'll try to figure out how to post it on my playlist once I record it. I felt great about my performance, and I was also pleased by my Brothers of the Ivory who brought a good game to the stage. Seriously, anyone who tackles Piano Man, playing and singing exactly like Billy Joel, has got braggin' rights.

Then came the last act on the program. Let's call her Sara. Right before they called her name to go on, she dashed out of the room, stage fright filling her heart. Her two best friends followed her, and led her on stage. They stood on either side of her as she sang a song called "This is me" from Camp Rock. Each friend had one hand on her back. My ward understood what was happening and began to clap along, giving an ovation when she finished. Sara doesn't sing great. No doubt she feared everyone would laugh at her like many do out of Church. But her singing was not the music we all heard.

The image of her friends standing by her with their hands on her back drew my mind back to October 2007, when Joseph B. Wirthlin gave a talk on The Great Commandment to love one another. About seven minutes into his talk, I noticed his body shaking. A minute more and his back spasms appeared far beyond his control. Russell M. Nelson, a fellow Apostle and a heart surgeon, stepped up and steadied him as Elder Wirthlin finished his talk. A talk on love. He who hath ears to hear, let him hear.

Listen to the Music

The following question is not a no-brainer: have you ever listened to music? Really sat down and focused your attention on the music you heard in a room? Did it make you want to dance or swell with emotion?

I had a creative music coordinator in my LDS stake in Logan. It's a very musical town because of USU's music department nearby, so the coordinator knew enough people to organize a string quartet--two violins, viola (a larger violin that plays a little lower), and a cello (Looks like a violin but is so big it is cradled between a sitting player's legs). Providing prelude music for a conference, they played hymns straight from our Hymnal, conveniently written in four parts. I was in the choir that conference so I sat behind the podium and soaked in this rare treat.

Then I looked into the congregation. Any Mormon keyboardist knows what I'm talking about. Congregations tend to view prelude like party music: pretty background for conversations with friends. Don't get me wrong, I love when friends greet me at church. And strings are often used as ambiance in movies and social gatherings. But how many church services in the world begin with a string quartet playing at the front of the church?

Most of us like music for different reasons. My friends used to like music with a "good bass" or "good beat." Some notice the songs with clever lyrics. Others are aware of the mood a song can put them in. I had a roommate that collected movie and video game soundtracks. He liked them not necessarily for their intrinsic qualities, but because they reminded him of the movies or games. He claimed that music didn't really mean much to him. I wondered how that worked, because he played a trumpet and even performed a solo once on sight in high school.

Many of us are a little practically-minded like that, and we enjoy music for extra-musical reasons. The words make us laugh, or it came from a great movie, or an old girlfriend liked the song (this happens a lot more than you think). A clarinet professor at college once said that when he hears a clarinet playing he focuses so much on the technique of the performer that he doesn't even listen to the music itself.

The most extreme case I've learned about comes from the book Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks. An anonymous case has amusia, a type of sonic color-blindness. Any music sounds like chaos to the patient. Her mind cannot make sense of the patterns of melody, harmony or rhythm. The only way she tolerates listening to it is in family gatherings. Her family is very musical, and when they gather they play together. Seeing the joy her family gets from playing together and enjoying the music together is satisfying enough for her. That's as close as she ever comes to enjoying music.

I think some of us are afraid to really listen to music. It's often in the background of an event, not the focus. To pay attention to it is a little unsettling at first because nobody's talking. But that's the point sometimes. Nobody to distract you from letting the music affect you, teach you, express something beyond words. Or, if it's appropriate, stop conversing with your posse and move to the rhythm of the music the DJ or band throws down. Tap your foot if that's all you can do. It can affect your soul for good. Listeners don't realize what an important roll they play in music. Without the audience, there is no art.

A few years ago I bought a DVD of a Christmas concert with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and The King's Singers. The definite highlight was Mack Wilberg's arrangement of "O Holy Night." I cannot accurately describe the piece except for what I felt. The song usually sounds very static to me because the notes in the melody hold their place for long stretches. But Wilberg added counterpoints and harmonies that gave motion and emotion to the music. Add the singer's and orchestra's performance, and nothing else in the world mattered. My mother was preparing Christmas desserts in the kitchen, not really paying attention. Just overhearing the music coming from the living room she had to stop baking and come sit. We both needed to rewind the song when it finished. That's what music can do.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this: If a tree makes music in the forest and there's nobody around to listen to it, does the music even exist?