The Music Instinct: How Musics Works and Why We Can’t Do Without It (2011) attempts to answer these questions, stating that ‘it is deeply puzzling why these complex mixtures of acoustic frequencies and amplitudes make any sense to us, let alone why they move us to joy and tears.’ He also answers the question, why do we sing?
The author begins by saying that music ‘is the most remarkable blend of art and science, logic and emotion, physics and psychology’ and in this book he explores ‘how music works its magic.’ He says music is ‘not simply hedonistic’ or a luxury, nor does its absence ‘lead to a brutish nature’ of humankind. He opts for something in between.
He blends his research into a mixture of music psychology, neurology (brain science), philosophy, mathematics, history, ethnomusicology, vocalization, and communication.
He starts with the first musicians: ‘about the origins of music, we have almost no evidence whatsoever.’ He explores musilanguage. Could music have originated as a courtship display?
Philip Ball examines how music is written (and it gets quite technical in this chapter with lots of diagrams). And what are rhythmic sounds anyway? Are they just ‘organized sounds’ – ‘rumbling, scraping, jangling, honking and the churning of machines’? What makes a tune? Where’s the beat?
He examines listening. What are people actually listening to? Are listeners hearing everything – in a solo instrumental, in orchestral music, and in a tune with a song (are people listening to the words or the music)?
Why do people move or dance to music? Are we all ‘born to boogie?’ What is the colour of music? Is all sad music blue? What bits of the brain do we use when we compose music, when we listen to music, when we sing, when we dance? How does it create emotions? How do composers of music for horror movies know what sounds evoke fear or anxiety or suspense or horror or …? Why do songs linger in the mind?
This is an ambitious topic. It raises more questions than answers. British singer-songwriter Elvis Costello said, ‘writing about music was like dancing about architecture.’ In part, the author agrees. After a comprehensive study (minus the linkages between animal sounds and songs and rhythms), and a rather complex exploration (it is not an easy read in parts), the author says ‘music is not like other forms of art’ because in some respects it is beyond words. It is both individual and collective, personal and professional, full of words and without words. But, in writing about it, this book is thought-provoking. And as the promotional blurb says, after reading this book, ‘you’ll never listen to music in the same way ever again.’
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MARTINA NICOLLS
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MARTINA NICOLLS is an international aid and development consultant, and the author of: The Paris Residences of James Joyce (2020), Similar But Different in the Animal Kingdom (2017), The Shortness of Life: A Mongolian Lament (2015), Liberia’s Deadest Ends (2012), Bardot’s Comet (2011), Kashmir on a Knife-Edge (2010) and The Sudan Curse (2009).
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