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.