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I was recently asked, by a musician acquaintance, if I would be interested in listening to his upcoming album ahead of its release, and offering a short review - a “blurb” I think they call it in the publishing world - that he could use (along with I’m sure many others) in his marketing for the record. I was of course flattered that a quote from the Tell You What! enterprise would carry any weight. The request got me thinking about the idea of writing, and talking, about music. Sitting on my desk is a book I was recently gifted, “How to Write About Music” (I tried not to ponder why the gifter thought this book was necessary for me; at least they didn’t buy me singing lessons.) Though I spend a lot of time talking about music, on the podcast and in real life, and sometimes writing about it, here and elsewhere, I usually find it a difficult undertaking. I am not the first to wrestle with this, the famous quote “writing about music is like dancing about architecture” has bounced around for decades. But that quote seems aimed at discouraging the critic’s voice, implying there is not a place for writing (and by extension) talking about music. Obviously I disagree, I find it a matter of necessity; there must be writing about and discussion of the arts in order for them to flourish. Talking and writing about music we like allows others to find music they might not be exposed to, and to perhaps view certain artists in ways they had not previously considered, gaining new appreciations for their music in the process. However it is worth pondering why it is that we struggle to find the words to adequately describe the experience of hearing (and sometimes seeing) music that impacts us. William James, in his 1902 book “The Varieties of Religious Experience”, offers the four qualities that define a mystical experience; and one of them is “ineffability”-the experience cannot be adequately described in words. As any Deadhead will attest, there is certainly an overlap between mystical experiences and those moments of extreme joy attained at a live music event. Music changes our moods, it makes us want to dance, to move, it makes us laugh (cry), it inspires, it calms, it surprises. But here I am describing our reactions to the music; I am not describing the music itself or how/why it elicits those responses. The frustration in attempting to write and talk about music, to describe exactly why we like it or how it interacts with us, is testimony to the magnificent mystery and joy that music presents. It offers us something we are drawn to but that lies just beyond our ability to understands its pull. And that pull, if we are lucky, can sometimes draw us close to the transcendent (dare I say mystical) experience. So we keep going back for more. Thank you for following along as I try to write about talking about music (cooking about dancing about architecture?)
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