Sunday 26 December 2010

Does Music Express Emotion?


Were we to approach the question of whether music expresses emotion too literally we would perhaps be immediately faced with an insurmountable obstacle in that a piece of music is not animate in the way that a person is animate, therefore, in the strictest sense, a piece of music has no emotions to express,[1] much as a stone has no emotions of its own, a stone merely is. And yet a stone can be sculpted, a stone can be turned into a work of art that can also be understood in our vernacular to ‘express emotion,’ thus it is not uncommon to ask of art, ‘What is this trying to express?’. If we are to make any progress in dealing effectively with the task of ascertaining whether music expresses emotion we must attempt to address the question in the figurative form in which it is intended rather than a crude literal form that yields little scope for consideration. That is to say, we must examine whether music, of itself, conveys emotion, and indeed, what emotion does it convey if it has no emotion of it’s own to express?
In the first instance I am highly dubious about the proposition that music expresses emotion because in my experience as a composer of songs I rarely seek to write music that expresses emotion. Generally I attempt to tell a story (through instrumentation and verse) or give some insight into human condition (to quote Voltaire, “I particularly like the ones which, from beneath the veil of the plot, reveal to the experienced eye some subtle truth.")[2] However, the fact that I do not aim to express emotion in my work does not logically entail that the work produced does not (albeit inadvertently) express emotion, less to speak of leading to the definitive conclusion that music as a medium does not ever express emotion at all. Those things considered we need apply an effective means of investigating the question extensively.
An apt way to do this would be to examine the most plausible examples in which we could imagine that music is likely to express emotion because it follows that if we can establish that the statement is true in one instance then it is likely to hold credit in others, the extent of which we can examine. In contrast, if the most plausible cases fails to satisfy us sufficiently then it naturally follows that less plausible cases will fail by the same lights. This method also adheres to the philosophical principle of logical positivism which states that the burden of proof lies on the positive claim (in this case that music expresses emotion.) That is to say, that rather than beginning with the assumption that music expresses emotion and attempting to discredit it we should see how evidence in favour of the proposition stands to scrutiny. With this in mind let us begin by examining the hypothetical case of an extremely gifted composer writing a piece of music with the aim of the work expressing emotion and, in so doing, achieving the greatest success afforded by what is possible. We will later also consider the role of the performer in music. If we can establish that in some instances music certainly does express emotion then we are in a better position to gauge to what extent it does so in a more general sense, and perhaps may infer when it does and when it does not.
        In order to give our composer a task which is sufficiently meritorious of gleaning insight on the matter, it will be necessary for us to draw a clear distinction between expressing emotion and eliciting emotion. As to the question of whether music can evoke emotion, to my sense of reason there seems little doubt. People often talk of music being happy or sad because listening to certain music entrains them into particular moods or states of consciousness and consequently individuals decide on what music is appropriate to put on when they take a relaxing bath, exercise and want to set the right mood for a party. Music effects the emotional states of people in various ways, that is not in dispute, but it also does little for our discussion, because music does not have to express emotion in order to evoke emotion![3] When the roulette wheel falls on black or red the gambler feels calamity or elation, yet no emotion was expressed by the roulette wheel. If the piece of our composer merely evokes emotion he does not necessarily succeed in having created music that expresses it.
Should our composer create a piece that not only evokes but truly expresses emotion what outcomes entail his success? It seems extremely difficult to be precise on this point. On one hand we could propose that if the listener is able to identify what emotion is being expressed then the composer is successful, on the other hand it is inconsistent with our experience of regular human interactions to say that an emotion needs to be correctly read in order to have been expressed. A further objection I would add is that this criterion is that it is so demanding that if it was the case hardly any music would be thought to express emotion at all because music is a very imprecise art in that respect. As Ridley put it, “Music can show us no objects... All that music can do is to resemble pieces of expressive behaviour in isolation from the contexts in which what they express is fully distinctive.”[4] How then to identify a suitable criterion for success in composing a work that expresses emotion?
Having earlier established that music, having no consciousness of its own, has no literal emotions to express, perhaps we must identify what manner of emotion a composition which purports to express emotions may be expressing. I can conceive of three possibilities: it could be the emotions of the composer, emotion that the composer instils within the creative elements of work in its genesis, or it could be emotion which is simply conjured into existence by the creative process, regardless of the composer’s intent. Each of these possibilities could potentially satisfy the criteria for establishing that music expresses emotion and yet each yields its own controversies. If, as stated in the first instance, the emotions expressed are those of the composer we must consider how they would then be relayed by the music. Does music have the power to communicate the emotions of the composer? Alan Goldman, while considering features of art which are linked to emotional states of the artist mentions the “agitated brushstrokes of van Gogh” but concludes that “our independent knowledge of van Gogh’s personality and mental problems makes his paintings seem so much an expression of his troubled mental states.”[5] An analogue of this in music could be the first movement Smetana’s first string quartet[6] which also seems to be an expression of troubled mental states. We are aware that it was written not long after Smetana went deaf and the subtitle: “Z mého života” (from in my life) is an indication of the personal nature of the piece. Smetana spoke at reasonable length on what it was intended to depict: “The inexpressible yearning of something I could neither express nor define, and also a kind of warning of (my) future misfortune.”[7] This knowledge allows us to relate what we hear to the mental states of Smetana, but without it perhaps we would consider the piece to simply be an effectively haunting composition.
If the emotions expressed in music are the emotions of the composer then it would seem that only a sad composer can write sad music when sad. Accepting this premise would not lead to the definitive conclusion that no music expresses emotion, but it doesn’t seem a very realistic suggestion. We are aware of how compose Brian Wilson spent years of his life thoroughly depressed, reportedly spending weeks at a stretch in bed while composing cheerful pop songs for his band The Beach Boys.[8]  It seems more credible to suggest that one can draw upon their experience of having had those emotions to create music that expresses them, or can seek to create a work which captures and recommunicates (expresses) their essence. This brings us to the second proposition: that the composer can somehow instil emotional expression into the creative elements of a piece.
Alan Ridley calls those elements of music which strike as particularly expressive “melismatic gestures.”[9] I would argue that if the emotion expressed in music is held within the melismatic elements crafted by the composer into his work, then expressing emotion in music becomes a discipline that can be learned and should be tangible enough to be pointed out in the score. It should be possible to isolate particular gestures and quantify what they express succinctly. I return the reader’s attention to the agitated brush strokes of van Goug. Goldman mentions that these can be copied and, until it is revealed that they are not a product of the same painter, they will appear “similarly expressive.”[10] This suggests that the strokes themselves are not truly expressive of emotion, but it is our interpretation of them which superimposes emotional expressiveness upon them. Following this line of reasoning into music, we would be able to document an array of melismatic gestures (styles of brush stroke) - features of timbre, harmony, melody and rhythm - that corresponded to the expression of particular emotions. I present this as a reductio ad absurdum: it is meaningless to isolate small pieces of music as say “this is expressive of happiness” or “this is expressive of sadness,” the meaning of a gesture “derives its musical sense from the concrete totality of the piece,” to use the words of Theodor Adorno.[11]
This criticism raised may however be countered by the proposition that the expression of emotion by music is something ephemeral that arises through the performance of a piece, but which cannot be identified in the score. In considering this point we move towards the third proposal of what manner of emotion a composition may express, which is that the creative process simply conjures the emotion the piece is said to express into existence. In such an instance the emotion is a characteristic feature of the composition being rendered. If indeed that is the case then the successful expression of any such emotion would surely depend on the quality of a performance of the piece given as the amateur performer could easily err in the communication of the intended emotion just as in any other element of the performance. Failing to proceed without considering the importance of the performer would be only to discuss notation not music, and yet in so doing we will perhaps make the composer entirely redundant because when performance is considered, the music we concern ourselves with could just as easily be improvised. The blues for example is an improvisational style of music often closely associated with the expression of emotion. The lyrics concern misery, and melismatic guitar licks closely associated with the idiom are thought to be soulful and expressive of angst,  although some claim that while “to feel blue is to be sad, melancholy or depressed… when Blues are played or sung, it is not to succumb to sadness but to find relief while expressing it.”[12] (My emphasis added.) When one listens to a heartfelt performance of blues music it is hard to deny that emotions are being expressed, and yet we must question whether it is the music which is expressing the emotion or in fact merely performing artist through his playing. Returning to our composer, if the expression of emotion is in the rendering of the piece what role does that leave for him to express his emotions? Perhaps it is in creating melismatic gesticulation which performers can interpret in order to relay those intended feelings to the audience, much like the copyist can emulate van Goug’s “agitated brushstrokes.” Thus there is a final argument to the effect that if someone intends that their art expresses emotion then perhaps it does. Indeed it would be as difficult to argue against an artist’s claim that their work expresses a particular emotion as it would to dispute the underlying meaning of the plot of a book proposed by the author. One would think the artist would be the authority on the matter, though I believe I have provided some grounds for doubt.
It appears to me that when one tells a fairy tale, the telling of that story is not necessarily of itself an expression of emotion. Perhaps the story expresses a view on morality, on heroism, or social norm, or is simply the relaying of an adventure. Similarly a painting may not necessarily covey an emotion, it could just be a picture of a bunch of flowers. That being said, it is not impossible to conceive of someone painting their representation of anger and in such a case, who is to say that anger is not what the painting expresses? Music seems to have a very close relationship to emotions as it has the power to evoke them, yet in many cases it seeks only to create an atmosphere, tell a story or to be beautiful, horrifying or moving simply of itself. Perhaps music is used by some artists as a means of expressing emotions (such as in blues music) but it remains in question whether Smetana’s string quartet and the songs of the blues singer, like van Goug’s brushstrokes, are indeed the expression of the artists mental states, or merely a product of them.


Bibliography


·     Adorno, T. W. (1941) “On Popular Music” Studies in Philosophy and Social Science, New York: Institute of Social Research.

·     Goldman, A. (1995) “Emotion in Music” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 53, No. 1 pp. 59-69

·     Kivy, P. (1980) “The Corded Shell: Reflections on Musical Expression” Princeton University press

·     Ridley, A. (1995) “The Experience of Expressive Music” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 53, No. 1 pp. 49-57.




[1] Aaron Ridley appeared to fundamentally agree with me upon this point, stating: “Melisma (musical gesticulation) itself isn’t expressive–it only resembles something expressive.” Ridley, A. (1995) “The Experience of Expressive Music” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 53, No. 1 pp. 49-57.
[2] Voltaire (1774) “The White Bull”
[3] Peter Kivy seconds my point succinctly in his work The Corded Shell, “No one should doubt that music can and does arouse emotion in this way… What we deny is that this has anything to do with musical expressiveness.” (p30)
[4] Ridley, A. (1995) “The Experience of Expressive Music” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 53, No. 1 pp. 49-57
[5] Goldman, A. (1995) “Emotion in Music” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 53, No. 1 pp. 59-69
[6] Work without opus number, in E minor, written in 1876.
[7] Way, J. http://www.fuguemasters.com/smetana.html#Quartet_No_1
[8] Fischer, D. corroborated by interview conducted by Friedman, G. available online: http://www.abilitymagazine.com/past/brianW/brianw.html
[9] Ridley, A. (1995) “The Experience of Expressive Music” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 53, No. 1 pp. 49-57.
Also see footnote 1.
[10] Goldman, A. (1995) “Emotion in Music” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 53, No. 1 pp. 59-69
[11] Adorno, T. W. (1941) “On Popular Music” Studies in Philosophy and Social Science, New York: Institute of Social Research.
[12] “The Blues and How” Claire Music Co. Inc.

Monday 1 November 2010

The Pragmatist

I consider myself a pragmatist. I wouldn’t say I’m in any way an immoral person, I mean, I’m not the kind of guy who would harm someone for the sake of it, I’m not a sadist. So I blackmailed a gullible politician. A crooked one at that. It’s not something my conscience is going to eat at me for because I don’t see it as a moral issue, it’s a matter of pragmatism. He had the power to get what I need, and he was foolish enough to believe I was capable of what I threatened, so a transaction took place. Do you have pangs of moral conscience buying something that will benefit you in a half price sale? Of course not! Why should you?

I have no use for God. Well, I’m not saying definitively that it’s impossible that the universe has a creator, it’s just that if it does he she or it is really rather unconcerned with my affairs. I have no use for him so I will spare you the other clichés alternatively proposing that he just has a weird sense of humour or is away on sabbatical. Maybe he’s just a pragmatist too. I have no time for philosophy.

I believe in science. Well, as far as anyone really believes in science, which is to say that I believe what suits me and interpret what happens to me in a way that supports that worldview while making a concerted effort to avoid evidence which contradicts my biases. See? I’m a pragmatist.

There’s a reason why Tories read the Telegraph and Lefties read the Guardian.

Maybe it’s fairer to say I believe in success. Look at me though, I’m successful!

The bottom line is, I’m not actually in the habit of stepping over people to get what I want. Most of the time all I do is sense what people expect and serve it up for them. I provide a service, like supply and demand. Yeah! It’s just like responding to market forces!

It just so happens that most people actually expect calamity, disaster, and, well, being fucked for a buck, if you’ll pardon the French. Who am I to judge? I’m just pointing out the chink in other peoples armour…
With the sword they put in my hand.

It’s not rocket science, you just need to pay attention. You see, most people are sleep walking - they talk when they should be listening – and they’re self absorbed, so they miss absolutely everything. I don’t miss anything. That’s why I’m a pragmatist.

It’s not a gift or a talent, it’s a discipline to be highly developed. If you’re busy thinking of what you’re going to say next time it’s your shot I guarantee you’re missing 99% of the information that is being communicated to you. People fail to use their eyes, so they stumble around bumping into on another until one of them falls off the edge of a cliff. And sometimes that’s where I come in. If it wasn’t me it would be someone else. Like I said, I’m a pragmatist.

Thursday 30 September 2010

Hymn for the Redemption of Humanity

May we cope with every struggle and find hope in every loss,
Lest the world that we’re creating die like Jesus on the cross,
May we dare to show our neighbour all the love we show a friend,
And may Gaia our sweet mother bloom in harmony again,

May all children of creation live as Buddhas and as Christs,
May we each be our own saviour and leave no one sacrificed,
May the road that reaches Heaven meet the road that leaves from Hell,
May we all find our salvation in the moment that we dwell.

Sunday 8 August 2010

She took me out of the city and lay me down with her next to the shrubs close to a ravine in what I could only imagine was a deer skin. She made it clear with her reactions that I was not to speak, and nor did she, but very soon we began to communicate with one another in images and all was understood between us, even without words.

She taught me the language of the forest.

The ground spoke to me of ancient times when they were covered in snow, but they were happier then because the soil was alive and the ravens still sung. I learned of ancient healers and medicine men who used to walk the lands when they were brown in Autumn.

The next night we were closer, as she naked next to me my hands felt invited to explore her body, whch was pleasing to her and wonderful to me. When I reached her sex with my fingers it was warm and moist but I knew there was fear in my heart over whether we should make love and when I touched her clitoris she reacted negatively after a moment, but perhaps only as a consequence of my trepidation. I know we slept together but did not make love.