This I Believe
by Noah Mitchell
I believe in music. I believe in its ability to embody emotions, to express the soul by solidifying some mystical overlap, an area where the idealism and reality of the individual, the listener, and music all share the same spiritual wavelength.
First I will explain the context in which I refer to "music:"
Earlier in my life, I vigorously pursued the impossible mastery of music, and, inevitably, continuously failed and continue to fall short when I periodically find myself aspiring to that goal. When I was 11 or 12, I did not realize exactly what music was; I thought it was mathematics, an equation, a puzzle. "Blues solo" meant run up and down the pentatonic minor, adding a flatted 5th and trilling between the minor third and the root for a while in fitting rhythms. When I started to get more serious about writing music, I noticed something peculiar: my best songs were written when I was not "properly" paying attention to the fingerings, chord changes, and music theory behind the riffs and licks.
This progressed to a more experienced realization that I obviously could not master music in any genre or even within any song; instead, music is something far too vague, something that transcends MY power: its potency lies more clearly in its reception by others.
For example, say I feel a certain calm and write a song about it. I can't enslave the notes and words that express that calm; I must grasp the common ground between the emotion and the expression, where the two potential forces blend. If I succeed in this, I can succeed in composing a good song AND allowing the song to compose me. It must go both ways to work, and you cant force the music out; it is too vast and inexplainable to be conquered. However, the music must still share the ground of one more spiritual vibe: the listener. If all three parts merge together, then music exists.
The vast expanse of music's potential I believe in is comparable to paint. Say an artist, like the composer, has an image to show a friend. He cannot explain the image to any degree of beauty. The best he can do is say, "It looks like the most beautiful harbor engulfed in fog." This is like saying, "The song weaves in and out of the dark, Phrygian tones while floating through an airy and light melody." An experienced musician, just like someone who has seen harbors and paintings before, can imagine vaguely the technicalities of the masterpiece, but the essence of the art can only be experienced first-hand, through SEEING the hues and layout of the painting, just like HEARING the arrangement of notes. If the friend does not think the painting is beautiful, then the paint did not create the desired effect. But the mysticism of music lies in its ability, like the paint, to express the desired effect, an emotional state of mind shared by the performer and the listener.
This emotional confluence towers over all physical realities, overcoming the heart and mind to one passion. The passion is not the notes alone, not the intention alone, and not the effect alone, but the union of all three. This I believe.
