Some people identify with a particular musical style or historical period of music to the point of elevating their own personal preferences to the level of general aesthetic principles. They may become extremely uncomfortable if forced by circumstances to listen to music identified with another historical period or subculture. Still other people have new musical and cultural experiences with little or no stress, just as some people learn new instruments or languages quickly, seemingly without effort. Their musical and cultural tastes are flexible and open ended.
Culture is always in a continuous state of development, and intellectual ferment, just as living languages are continuously evolving, with new words and usages being added and others dropped whenever dictionaries are revised. Culture is the cumulative expression of the values in the hearts and minds of the world’s people and music is an important part of that. Most musical languages are also evolving in a more or less continuous manner and reflect the culture as a whole. The social experiences of music listening and music making are very important, and the music may depend on them for its very existence. The aesthetic experience and the perception of beauty in music are more important to me than the cultural context, and do not depend on them for its appreciation. That is why any music can be appreciated which may have been created long ago or far away.
Some of my ideals for intellectual ferment and cultural development are: deep curiosity, a fascination with sound and process, tolerance for other ideas, and compassion for struggling humanity. The value of any particular piece of music is not necessarily tied to the cultural or historical context of its origin and may transcend its context if well enough made. I try to put the music first.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
More from the Soul of Music
Zen and the Art of Music Composition
Composition doesn’t have to be complex or hard work to yield good music. Anyone can practice it with the acquiring of a few principles and a trust for the process of right-brain thinking. The following represents an easy approach to composition, which anyone can learn quickly, and practice to the point of infinity.
I. Listen carefully to what you hear in your mind’s ear or in physical reality.
II. Capture some sound (in a verbal description, sound recording (sampling) or some form of musical notation).
III. Process the sound in some perceptible sense by varying some aspect(s) of the sound
IV. Document the process in some form.
V. Go back to step one
VI. Evaluate the results and revise if necessary (Be careful of self criticism; if it becomes too obsessive, put revision off until later. Don’t dam up the creative flow.)
VII. At some point, break this cycle and present the resultant sounds. A good rule of thumb is Dylan Thomas’ idea to stop when the revisions don’t make the poem any better.
Everything we do as composers can be seen as some part of this approach.
Composition and the spirit of work
As a child I had a recurring dream about being in a desert or beach with high dunes around me on all sides. Sitting alone in the sand with the hot sun overhead and a small sieve in hand, my job was to strain all the sand of the dunes through the sieve. When beginning to study composition in my early twenties, I remembered the dream and understood that every grain of sand I was straining represented one of the musical notes I was to compose in my life. Each note coming out of the end of my pencil was arriving from an infinite source and was being filtered through my mind, symbolized by the sieve. Having taken this experience as a metaphor for my compositional work, I continue to work in a disciplined manner, like a scientist or a kitchen worker separating spices by hand.
Composition doesn’t have to be complex or hard work to yield good music. Anyone can practice it with the acquiring of a few principles and a trust for the process of right-brain thinking. The following represents an easy approach to composition, which anyone can learn quickly, and practice to the point of infinity.
I. Listen carefully to what you hear in your mind’s ear or in physical reality.
II. Capture some sound (in a verbal description, sound recording (sampling) or some form of musical notation).
III. Process the sound in some perceptible sense by varying some aspect(s) of the sound
IV. Document the process in some form.
V. Go back to step one
VI. Evaluate the results and revise if necessary (Be careful of self criticism; if it becomes too obsessive, put revision off until later. Don’t dam up the creative flow.)
VII. At some point, break this cycle and present the resultant sounds. A good rule of thumb is Dylan Thomas’ idea to stop when the revisions don’t make the poem any better.
Everything we do as composers can be seen as some part of this approach.
Composition and the spirit of work
As a child I had a recurring dream about being in a desert or beach with high dunes around me on all sides. Sitting alone in the sand with the hot sun overhead and a small sieve in hand, my job was to strain all the sand of the dunes through the sieve. When beginning to study composition in my early twenties, I remembered the dream and understood that every grain of sand I was straining represented one of the musical notes I was to compose in my life. Each note coming out of the end of my pencil was arriving from an infinite source and was being filtered through my mind, symbolized by the sieve. Having taken this experience as a metaphor for my compositional work, I continue to work in a disciplined manner, like a scientist or a kitchen worker separating spices by hand.
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