Soundiscovery

Issue #3: The Evolution of Music, or: Why Critics Told Us So

2009-12-28T18:18:00.000-08:00

Not exactly sure what started it, but tonight I wound up reading Wikipedia's article on one of my favorite classical composers, Maurice Ravel. In high school, I had to do a report on him for Arts and Humanities and it was maybe my second big brush with classical music.

Up to then, I listened mainly to John Williams, Jerry Goldsmith, and James Horner because they scored the movies I watched as a kid, in favor of Sesame Street or Nickelodeon. When I was in 7th grade, my uncle gave me The Planets for Christmas, which was Classical Experience No. 1. Back to high school. For my report, I went to the library and checked out pretty much every Ravel CD I could find--which was just one CD of Ravel's piano works performed by Arthur Rubinstein. While I wasn't much of a piano solo kind of guy, the compositions were still pretty interesting. So I tracked down the orchestral versions of those piano works and was, as you guessed it, blown away. I did a little in-book research on Ravel, and put my project together as a Flash movie, rather than Power Point or posterboard. For the movie's narration, I used a voice synthesis program I found on the internet and recorded the entire project's script that way. What a geeky, bloated bunch of work. I probably got a C+ for it. The other kids in the class probably just did reports on their composers, got higher grades for it, and forgot everything by the weekend. Here I am, though, still listening to Ravel.

Something that was kind of eye-opening was that Ravel, someone who's seen as a musical genius today, was actually criticized back in the day by academics and critics. What the hell. A century ago, his artistic merit was as much in question as Lady Gaga's is today. A lot of people would think that makes sense. Classical=boring. Not hard to see how a classical composer would've been berated. Of course, the idea back then was that Ravel wasn't boring enough. When he studied at the Conservatoire, the academic types evaluating his work found it to be too unorthodox and non-traditional, so they basically were like, "You can either leave on your own or we can kick you out. Either way, you, Monsieur, are un fail grande." He exacted his revenge by becoming one of the most well-known, intellectual composers in history. For those who even know who he is nowadays.

Finally, we come to my little crisis of thought. Why are more people listening to Lady Gaga than Ravel? If I were to answer, I'd say it's accessibility and relevance. It's doubtful Ravel ever played a hand of poker and, subsequently, wouldn't know the first thing about how to use that to woo a paramour. A left-handed piano concerto, maybe. [Insert joke here.] This brings up the question, though, why listen to music that's only relevant and instantly accessible? Music is the soundtrack to our lives. It's sad that so many people settle for having such disposable, unimaginative music describe themselves. For me, Ravel and other classical composers take me places that words can't, both within and without myself. It saddens me that fewer and fewer people are being taken to these places, because they'd rather listen to cheap clichés over and over again. They're letting music tell them who to be and what to be, rather than figuring it out for themselves with reflective, inspiring music that opens their minds.

Despite complete lack of artistic merit, Lady Gaga is leaving her mark on our culture. It might largely be forgotten in twenty years, but someone even more fatuous and mundane will come along and shepherd our weak minds into mediocrity. And this is the kind of thing critics of Ravel accused him of doing a hundred years ago! Sure, we got Ravel out of it despite the warning, but at what cost? According to critics, by loving Ravel, we accepted mediocrity. A century later, and we're still lowering the bar for the next dummy to step up to the mic and dumb our culture down a shade. Can we get back to the top, pull ourselves out of the nosedive, and redeem our declining intelligence or will we prove Mike Judge to be a prophet of sorts? Regardless, I suppose God will still find a way to use us to accomplish His will.

Issue #2: Soundtracks

2008-08-13T04:46:00.000-07:00

Just to avoid confusion, I'm not talking about soundtracks like Beverly Hills Cop or Top Gun that are filled with songs more than actual orchestral or "classical" music by one composer. Those I'll call "songtracks". Actual "soundtracks" are going to be the works of music where a composer was hired to specifically write music for a particular movie.

The first kind of music that I ever really listened to was a soundtrack. My parents just had a tendency to put anything Star Wars in front of me from the age of about 3 and on. So, naturally, this is how A New Hope wound up in my tape player. At first, I liked it because it was like watching the movie in the car, just with no picture, sound effects, or dialogue. After a while, though, I began to like the music on its own. From grade school and into college, that's all I played. Classical music didn't really phase me that much, though. It's still a mystery to me why you react to some music and not to other types. Eventually, classical grew on me, but it took some maturing and probably some more life experience to appreciate it.

One thing I've discovered is that if I can find the perfect setting to go with a piece of music--whether it be rock, classical, jazz, reggae, etc.--I can usually enjoy the music from that point on, just by remembering the moment where the sound melded with the environment. For instance, I never really liked "Baba O'Riley" before I heard it on the plane as it was in final approach flying into Louisville. I was flying back from seeing my then-girlfriend in Raleigh and as the plane descended over the Ville and southern Indiana, the music just seemed to fit. Then the closer and closer we got to the ground, the music got faster and faster until finally it reached a peak as the tires hit the tarmac and we rolled to a stop. That moment just really opened my mind up to the song and ever since then, not only do I feel that intensity, but I also just hear it for being more than just another rock song from the '70s.

Anyway, soundtracks have been a big part of my life and for about the past decade of my life, I've been in the habit of trying to make the music I listen to sync up with life...or vice versa. I choose music to play during certain situations/events/occurrences to express how I feel and to feel a certain mood, so the music can exacerbate those feelings. Dick Clark once said, "Music is the soundtrack to our lives." Well, I wonder what it means when soundtracks are the soundtrack to your life? My friend Tom would probably say it means I'm a geek. Then he'd mock me in his geek voice and say, "Hi, my name's Dan. I listen to movie soundtracks. Will you be my friend?"

Issue #1: The Final Cut

2008-08-12T17:26:00.000-07:00

For the time being, this is the new home of a little venture I'm calling Soundiscovery. It's an "e-zine" of sorts, you could say (okay, it's a blog), dedicated to the music I feel very strongly about.

To kick off the first issue, I'm opening with some thoughts on an underrated album by the best band known to Man, Pink Floyd. First, a little history about it. The title is very appropriate, The Final Cut: A Requiem for the Post-War Dream - by Roger Waters, performed by Pink Floyd, as it's the final album of the Roger Waters-era of the band. Roger had fired Richard Wright, Nick Mason was supposedly next, and David Gilmour was the only one left to stand up to him, as he was the only one who was still writing music that Waters could use in some diminished capacity. Basically, this is a Roger Waters solo album. If you listen to the succeeding solo albums, there's a definite theme: lyrics over music. The music takes a far backseat to the messages Waters tries to convey. They're all minimalistic, pretty much. And it all started with The Final Cut.

The impotus for the album was Waters's meditation on the circumstances that led to his father's death in WWII. Then it also examines how frivolously world leaders still throw away human lives when it comes to international conflicts, as if nothing was learned from the pain and loss of WWII, as if every war is just a game played by "overgrown infants". It's a powerful anti-war message that exposes the faults that are inherent with those in control. That being said, it's both an insightful look at the past and a prophecy of things to come, as long as the privileged are left to rule the world. The backdrop of the Falklands War is only a metaphor for the message Waters is telling us about human nature. Where The Wall takes a look at the self, The Final Cut takes a look at the world and the human race.

In terms of accessibility, The Final Cut throws up a wall of its own, isolating itself from most ears for the first few listens. It's not loud, it's not flashy, it's not catchy, it's just simply a reflection on humanity's darker side. Without all the bells, whistles, and theatricality of The Wall, this album is still a masterpiece. It's tough to concede to the indulgence of the man who broke up the greatest band in history, but his lyrics and sparing use of music created a great coda to an era, leaving us with an obscure masterpiece that will never gain the attention it deserves. Few people can reach this level of articulate and satirical songwriting, interpreting the world we live in with such original insight and brilliance. The Final Cut is, in conclusion, a modern classic comparable to the works of the great British satirists of the Enlightenment.