Thoughts about music and creativity …

Music—outside of the church—is nowadays mostly performance, not participation (sometimes even there, in the church). It wasn’t always so; this is a modern development. Dr. Daniel Levitin, in This is Your Brain on Music, discusses in detail what is happening inside the brain while playing or listening to music. He theorizes that music might even pre-date language as a form of communication. Throughout the history of mankind, most people participated in the making/playing/creating of music, or at least, dancing to it. Music has always been an important, basic form of human communication.

Only in modern times have we specialized into a dichotomy of professional performers and paying audiences (active vs. passive). We appreciate music vicariously (i.e., we let them do it) because the performers are so good: the cream of the crop, who do nothing but get better and better at playing/performing music. We don’t expect that we can be that good—and we can’t—so we don’t participate at all. We listen to the professionals, or the cd’s they sell, and we buy tickets to their concerts and watch their videos on television. They play music more and more actively and skillfully, as they become more and more successful, and we get more and more passive in our musical—and artistic—expression.

Grateful Dead (left) and Ted Nugent (right).

A new wrinkle has developed in recent years that could be considered somewhere in-between the extremes of the historical universal participation in making music versus the modern professional performing for a passive audience. This in-between version began a few years ago with the appearance of the Karaoke phenomenon. Not just a fad blowing through our culture, karaoke has kept a worldwide presence and even built on its early popularity. Of course, karaoke is simply recorded music, played over speakers without the vocal tracks, which are then added “live” by participants with a microphone. It is still a matter of a performer and an audience; only with karaoke the performer is a non-professional, maybe a non-musician.

Next to come down the pike was Guitar Hero—an innovative “music game” that plays recorded music while a participant watches a video screen and manipulates a computer-guitar along with the music. The more skillfully you push the correct buttons as the music plays, the more points you score. It still is one participant “playing” to previously recorded music—now as a video game with an objective scoring system. Music competition for points, like music-sports entertainment.

The next logical step appeared in 2008 as “Rock Band”. Now, with a little more outlay for “instruments”, you and your friends can “perform” previously recorded versions of all kinds of hit rock songs as a “band”. One or more have a microphone for vocals, one has a Guitar Hero-like computer-guitar, another has electronic drum pads, and so on. Again, you are watching a video screen and scoring points—individually and as a band.

Sorry, folks, but you are not playing music; you are “playing”, but you are not creating or even recreating music.

Recently, I played at a house party where several skilled musicians, who don’t normally play together, were invited to jam while others watched and listened. When I say skilled musicians, I mean people who regularly play in public, several of whom tour professionally for their sole livelihood. I’ve been to these before, but this time was different. At some point, someone began doling out percussion instruments to the “unskilled listeners”—a djemba, a couple of washboards, a tambourine, etc.

The pounding and scraping and shaking of these neophyte percussionists did not detract from the quality of the music played by the “skilled” musicians. And it brought a wonderful sense of participation and inclusion for those “unskilled” percussion players. They were suddenly “making music” with the “real musicians”. I thought it was lovely.

It took me back to a time when I first began playing guitar and banjo, as an unskilled musician, at college house parties that would often turn into a nightlong songfest, with everyone present participating, singing shared songs at the top of their lungs. I remember the magic of those times. It was like recreating a Pete Seeger concert, coaxing an entire audience to sing along on the very first song. There is great community in making music together, skilled or not.

And yet, there is artistic value and great advantage when skilled musicians—performers—have long experience playing and creating good music together. Improvisational musicians—be it jazz, bluegrass, blues, rock or whatever—know well the magic of melodic ideas bouncing off one musician only to feed related, but new, ideas to others as the music moves around the circle of soloists.

A very different dynamic happens in other genres when musicians play--not by improvising, but together in unison--recreating a beautiful piece of music. Classical musicians or Irish or Appalachian fiddle/banjo music is performed with all participants playing the same melody, or harmonies thereof, at the same time. There are generally no soloists taking turns (although classical music can also feature soloists), but multiple individuals playing the same melody at the same time, perhaps supplemented with rhythm and percussion instruments. Perhaps less of the free expression and competitiveness of improvised music, but the pleasure and camaraderie is just as pleasing and valid.

Music in all of its styles and traditions, in all of its different venues and contexts, is pure aural beauty expressed in a way that God gave only to humans—of all His creatures--the ability to express. The animals, for sure, can make wonderful music: a chorus of spring peepers (frogs) or the melodious wood thrush, which can produce two distinct notes simultaneously—notes that are in harmony with each other (i.e., can sing harmony with itself!). But these are mindless expressions of genetic encoding for establishing territories and attracting mates (not that human music is never used for the latter purpose…). God has given only man the ability to express his deepest emotions through voice or musical instrument.

Donald Miller’s book, Blue Like Jazz, is not about jazz or even about music, it is about finding God. But an author’s note at the beginning of the book captures the God-given mystery of music:

I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn’t resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes.

After that I liked jazz music.

Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way…

So, listen to music, savor music like dark chocolate, make music with abandon. Even if you are no good, make real music—actively participate in music—it is good for your soul, God knows.