BY JOSEPH ASQUITH, LEAD WRITER (EDUCATION)
Rivalry. It is, perhaps unfortunately, a part of the human condition arising from our basic needs for self-validation and pride.
Humans yearn for a sense of affirmation – often at the cost of compromising the esteem of others. You can see it in the way we judge each other’s identities and actions – from nationality to cultural custom, sexuality to local sports team.
Our diverse society brings with it many musical genres. And yet, rivalry thrives in the musical community – commonly under the guise of elitism. But what is the realistic outcome of musical rivalry? Is this type of elitism more damaging than it is beneficial?
The past century has seen an explosion of diversity in Australian culture and, by extension, Australian music. We have everything from pub rock, to pop, indie, traditional musics, jazz, classical, and a wide variety of folk music. It may seem that a country which encompasses various types of music is culturally rich and all-embracing. And in some cases, perhaps it is; but often, the contrary is the reality.
For instance, pub rock is marketable for its resonance with white Australia’s fondness for the social bonding centred around beer. Not unlike early colonial folksong, pub rock has value in its ballad-like format, comprising stories specific to mainstream colonial Australian culture, but not focusing on other cultures present in Australia.
Pop music is advertised on a mass, corporate level, which engorges this particular representation of music to the point that it becomes mainstream.
A lot of pop music and singing contests, despite giving credit to the art of performance, have the potential to create a more superficial appreciation for music, as they centre solely on the human voice as an instrument – and the instrument’s owner a celebrity. Pop music is advertised on a mass, corporate level, which engorges this particular representation of music to the point that it becomes mainstream.
Independent or ‘indie’ music scenes react to this by organising and writing their own material which, whilst highly commendable, is unfortunately left underappreciated on the same mass scale when crushed by its competition through big-budget advertising.
Jazz and classical music are perhaps more reputed in their challenging, reflective, and often confronting aesthetics. Both are widely accepted as more complex or even “difficult” forms of art than their mainstream pop and rock counterparts. Jazz is often highly virtuosic and improvised which, whilst impressive, can restrict itself to an esoteric audience. Classical music, on the other hand, is often highly structured, which works in opposition to the freer structures involved in jazz. Classical has evolved to become musically formal, and culturally “high-brow”. And, unfortunately, the two streams are often in conflict. While they’re both taken seriously, they don’t tend to take each other seriously.
Of course, this is certainly not an exhaustive account of the complexities of the Australian music industry, but it does illustrate some general truths involved in the segregation that exists within. Why is this the case for music makers and listeners alike? Why do we judge each other’s music based on its stigma or advertising power? And how can Australian music creators and appreciators improve this ethic?
Musicians are forced to compete against one another in the market.
Music-making is a highly complex art and respectable practice. But, in our capitalist society, there is an enormous amount of work required to warrant a liveable income. Musicians are forced to compete against one another in the market, in an almost ‘survival of the fittest’ regime. It is hard to say whether success in this market is based on merit of musicality, being economically knowledgeable, or pure luck – perhaps a combination of all three (and more). This may go some way in uncovering the reasons mental ill-health is rife among those who work in the industry.
Our fast-paced lives often compromise our ability to listen closely and deeply to music, eclipsing a deep understanding of musical artistry. As such, it’s highly plausible that this competition manifests itself as a protection of one’s own musical genre, which is, as Crowded House would say, ‘Only Natural’. This protection commonly morphs into a feeling of superiority among musicians, which can consequently cause a genre to become exclusive to a restricted group of performers and audience, thus narrowing an appreciative crowd.
I try to keep an open mind when listening to music.
I know that I’m not perfect in this regard, either. But I try to keep an open mind when listening to music. I was recently provided with a rather inspiring edification on how to appreciate music while attending a workshop on Baroque flute playing technique. Learning about the artful intricacies of ornamentation, improvisation, and phrasing allowed me to open my mind, listen closely, and wholesomely appreciate the mechanisms involved in this genre; the attention to detail it necessitates, and the beauty that arises from such an approach.
I left this workshop with a refreshed outlook, not only on Baroque flute playing, but on how complex and sophisticated music is with regards to the specific techniques involved in each genre, as well as the aesthetic which arises from the plethora of musical idioms in Australia and, indeed, the world.
It excites me that there is so much more to learn about how musicians, of seemingly endless styles, approach their art. I know firsthand that this sense of opportunity is by far more satisfying than exercising elitism.
Music, for me, is about the creation and sharing of craft.
Music, for me, is about the creation and sharing of craft. Elitism, with all its constraints, seems to work in opposition to this ideal. Can the rejection of elitism be more productive than the use of it?
I cannot summon statistical research on this matter, but I can speak from my own experience as a practising musician, teacher, and arts journalist. Embracing a varied palette of musical genres cultivates musical knowledge and appreciation and, just as all humans bleed red blood, so too does all music comprise the artistic arrangement of sound and time. As cliché as it may sound, a sense of musical alliance may prove far more salubrious to humanity than rivalry or elitism.
If we can educate appreciators of music (that is, everyone) to listen, perhaps a circumvention of elitism can be achieved. If we are able to embrace and learn about the specific workings of various musical genres by opening our minds to truly listen, surely we can gain a more fruitful and broad understanding of music. And, by extension, perhaps we can develop a deeper understanding of the human condition.
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Read next from Joseph Asquith: The millennial musician’s quarter-life crisis.
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