BY JESSIE WANG, LEAD WRITER (COMMUNITY AND SOCIAL AWARENESS)
What are most people doing in the Sydney CBD at 12.30pm on a Tuesday?
Surely, many of them would have their lunchtimes then. And by ‘them’, I mean a large number of people who work in the city; people who may be fresh out of university, or the leaders who employ them.
So it seemed like a perfect idea for This Sounds Like Science: Music and Philosophy to be held at 12.30 on Tuesday to be at City Recital Hall (Angel Place), right at the heart of Sydney CBD last month. But after I took my seat and looked around, most people here were grey-haired and likely more than 60 years old. I felt like this fuelled the idea that “classical music was for old people” – a mantra we often hear – and I hoped that was not the case. I told myself that maybe it was because of the topic – perhaps philosophy doesn’t resonate as intimately with younger generations? Who knows?
This event was the first of a series of five this year, each covering the relationship between music and a different aspect of science. To kick off 2019, philosopher, violinist and educator Goetz Richter discussed the perplexity philosophers felt when facing and thinking about music. And what a CV he had – associate concertmaster at the Sydney Symphony Orchestra; more than 20 years of training top violinists (including one who now plays in the Berlin Philharmonic); and most recently, attaining an Order of Australia.
Goetz first started by discussing the difficulty of talking and thinking about music. Many types of music exist, such as music for the elevator, music for dancing, hip-hop music. Different types of music would then require different ways of engaging with them. Therefore, how do we talk about all music in the same way?
Goetz didn’t provide an answer, but I assumed that is what philosophers do – they ask questions.
Goetz then talked about the importance of listening when talking about music. The famous saying, “You have heard but you haven’t listened”, could be applied to music, too. Goetz explained that listening has two components: anticipation and spontaneity. In order to understand music, musical thoughts and phrases need to be anticipated. Sitting in the hall, I then put my psychology hat on. This anticipation may be intuitive: maybe we just know what would happen. Or, maybe it’s due to past experiences: maybe we only know that the dominant chord has to go to the tonic chord because that’s just what we have been told. (Ah, the classic nature versus nurture debate.) Anyway, spontaneity and freedom must also happen, because composers shouldn’t write every piece of music as you would expect it to be. As listeners, we have to suspend out beliefs.
Goetz joked that the modern-day listener anticipates too much and is not willing to suspend their belief. I can’t say I disagree too much. He then brought us through five philosophical approaches to music. Here’s what he had to say about each.
1. Music as expression
Many people would hear a piece of music and relate it to emotions. But we shouldn’t do that. Music doesn’t tell you how to feel, because different emotions may be induced with the same music. Hanslick famously said that music inspires us to feel, rather than simply makes us feel.
This was particularly powerful for me – to realise the listeners’ importance in the music-making process, rather than simply receiving music as it is.
2. Relationship of music and temporality
Music is special because, unlike other forms of art, it depends on time. Once the music is over, you cannot view it again like an object. Good musicians will therefore play with both the past and the future, giving us direction in the music – even with just one note.
3. Immediacy and sense in music
The main sense we require to receive music is be hearing. And this sense is special in many ways. It is the only sense that cannot be shut. According to Richard Gill, it is also the first sensation we experience as a baby in the womb, making music at the top of the artistic food chain. Therefore, some philosophers have argued that hearing penetrates our being. It is nondetachable, and therefore, more intimate to our beings. Since music heavily relies on hearing, music is then also intimate to our beings.
4. Freedom and form, chaos and order
I will admit, by this point, Goetz was running out of time, so unfortunately I cannot say very much about this particularly complex topic, nor am I proficient enough in my (lack of) knowledge of philosophy to elaborate on it. But I think the general gist was that the essence of music, according to Nietzsche, is where we lose ourselves (aka the chaos).
Wagner himself extended this by saying if we are caught in chaos, we need a form of redemption (aka order).
5. Ethos
Philosophers have thought about whether music makes our world better. As musicians, of course we would like to think so. But hey, here’s a challenging thought by Thomas Mann – what if the chaotic elements prevail over order? Then, music may not make the world better…
Goetz ended on a note that would help me in my own pedagogical approach: “Music needs to exist in your imagination first before you can think about it. Once you play, you should’ve already thought of everything you want to do.” So for me personally, I will try to get my music students to think first before they move. This will be extremely challenging because I teach percussion, and kids always start banging on instruments as soon as they get hold of sticks. But, I will try to get them to think; to externalise their consciousness and themselves through their music.
When the event ended, I chatted to the person next to me, Jackie, the Manager of Inspiring Australia – an organisation that brings science and engineering to large audiences. We both confessed that we were out of our depths. And I guessed for both of us, it was difficult to reconcile with the fact that Goetz didn’t give us any specific answers on the philosophy music. Rather, he encouraged us to engage in the process of thinking about music for ourselves. Whether or not this was Goetz’s aim, he made us all philosophers for that brief hour on my Tuesday lunchtime.
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All images supplied. Credit David Vagg.
