Saturday, March 19, 2011

How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways - Part 2


Before delving into the more elemental aesthetic elements, I’d like to propose that the deconstruction of and experimentation with the aforementioned aesthetic elements creates an enormous pool of aesthetic possibilities for expanded enjoyment.  Predictably, engagement with the central pillars of melody, harmony and structure present the most wide-reaching potential for experimentation.  Atonality—the partial or complete abandonment of traditional melodic and harmonic structure—is probably the single largest tool in deconstructing melody and harmony.  Atonal music is capable of flouting every single rule and expectation that comes with traditional harmony, bringing with it a vast freedom on the part of the musician or composer.  With this freedom, though, comes the undeniable fact that the resulting music contravenes the sonic expectations of most listeners—dissonance becomes the norm, and the unfamiliar harmonic structure can be difficult to assimilate.  Likewise, deconstruction of basic structure can also lead to extreme freedom but potential pitfalls in terms of accessibility.  Progressive rock pioneers of the 1970’s stretched the boundaries of traditional rock structure by writing extended,
multi-part epic songs which could be considered overlong for many listeners, while the reverse—abandonment of repetitive organization in favor of music with constantly shifting or evolving structure—can be difficult for listeners to follow and leaves little in the way of memorable patterns and can require numerous listens before sounding familiar.  This is where aesthetics start to enter less accessible territory—indeed, even territory where detractors will begin to argue that the resulting music cannot possibly be aesthetically pleasing.  If my position weren’t already clear, I believe that this sort of experimentation represents a most interesting and aesthetically beautiful possibility for music, but I do admit that enjoyment of the more extreme examples of experimentation requires a different type of listening—a sort of “unlearning” of the common aesthetic expectations that our socialization and perhaps our brains have presented us thus far.  Forgoing our natural inclinations is an admittedly intellect-heavy activity, but I argue that the ultimate expansive aesthetic payoff is worth the relatively modest amount of effort it takes to acquire the skill.  The thrill and surprise of an alien, atonal melody; the gnarled beauty of an dense chord cluster; the inexplicability of an unrepeated moment (either composed or improvised); whether or not they adhere to traditional rules, do these experiences not also accomplish the same success that all music intends to—the conveyance of emotion, feeling, ideas and experience?  Deconstruction is inherently tied to the forms it deconstructs; any deconstructive piece of music exists in relation to the forms it engages, with the implicit irony of its departure from the expected norm. 
The final aesthetic elements reside on an even deeper level—one with no explicit connection to traditional form—and yet, they are so fundamental that they permeate every aspect of music’s aesthetics in such a way that they may not be apparent until they are made the primary focus and aesthetic virtue.  The first is timbre—the character of a sound.  For example, the characteristics that make it possible to tell the difference between a violin and a flute playing the exact same frequency (note) and volume.  An orchestra is a classic example of the possibilities and application of different timbres—aside from the varying range of the instruments, each one has its individual character, which is why the soaring, ethereal aspects of a piece of music are delegated to the strings, for example, while the blaring, clamorous moods are achieved by utilizing brass instruments.  When we hear a Neil Young guitar solo played on his 50 year-old Les Paul through the same 50 year-old amplifier he’s been using since the 60’s, we hear a timbre that cannot be exactly replicated anywhere else.  Likewise, when we prefer a certain singing voice over another, it’s a matter of timbre—though it may not always be the primary aesthetic concern, timbre is a ubiquitous musical characteristic.  Like all of the other hallmark aesthetic elements, it is also ultimately ineffable, inspiring unanswerable questions—why do certain instruments convey or produce a different emotional reaction to others?  Certain types of so-called experimental, avant-garde and improvisational music employ timbre as a completely central aesthetic tool—rather than dealing with structure, harmony or melody, the music centers on texture, focusing on the individual timbre of each instrument, the blending of different timbres (sometimes to the point of total indistinguishability) and the emotions that arise from experiencing the pure texture of the instruments’ voices.  Here, the aesthetic experience has moved beyond that of even deconstructing traditional forms—the music deals not with “notes,” as they pertain (or do not pertain) to traditional rules and expectations. Instead, the focus is on sounds—the ultimate elemental source material from which all music is derived. 
Once pure sound is explicitly the aesthetic material at hand, the remaining traditional boundaries vanish entirely—if music is sound, then all sound can potentially be considered music.  The implications of this step reach beyond simple atonality—sounds may happen to occur on frequencies that are commonly used in traditional music, but it doesn’t matter.  The aesthetic purpose has become as fundamental as possible, and aesthetic pleasure comes from less easily-described manipulation of sound.  Density is crucial—how much sound is happening?  Are multiple sound sources occurring simultaneously?  Silence, always a potent tool in the creation of music, becomes even more import as the absence of sound.  The very existence and duration of each sound becomes an artistic choice.  In this way, sound is elevated to a numinous level where celebration of the timbre and very quality of the sound is aesthetically self-justifying.  Tempo and rhythm can be fluid, organic like the rest of the occurring sounds, and the thrill of dynamics and pace ebb and flow in an unpredictable manner.  In an aesthetic world where any sound is music, no audible vibration is off limits, so crowd recordings, animal noises, ambient field recordings et cetera are fair game, and the rhythm of a recorded speaking voice can become counterpoint to a simultaneously live instrumental performance.  Naturally, this school of thought has numerous opponents—to some, this type of music is nothing but chaotic cacophony, whether it’s free jazz, free improvisation, sound collage or musique concrete.  By traditional standards, this assessment is fair; spontaneous scraping, bleating and pounding have little relation to the disciplined organization of a classical fugue, for instance—except that they both consist of organized sound across time.  This is the ultimate connecting principle between such radically “unlistenable” music and every other piece of musical expression:  the exaltation of sound as a thing of beauty.
          Ultimately, subjectivity problematizes this radical aesthetic valuation in the same way it plagues the appreciation of any type of music regardless of structure, style or purpose.  Accepting that wholly unstructured music can sound good is a far cry from saying this piece of unstructured music is aesthetically pleasing, while that one is not.  Additionally, accepting this type of abstract sound worshipping as aesthetically permissible does not mandate that all music should be made this way.  Rather, it merely becomes one of many tools available for musicians to use in the quest for expression, as well as another interpretive tool listeners can use to connect with and appreciate whatever music is currently at hand to the fullest extent possible.  Indeed, there are plenty of opportunities to swoon at a sumptuous display of timbre in any type of music, and there are many special albums and recordings that are especially pleasing because they simply sound good in a way that has nothing to do with their traditional musical content.  In closing, it should be noted that none of these numerous aesthetic components are mutually exclusive.  Potentially, they can all be employed in any combination to produce or serve any emotional resonance required.  By permitting the widest array of aesthetic characteristics imaginable, the possibilities are limitless.

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