Amy Winehouse's Sad, Untimely Passing: A Parallel to Western society?

I am very saddened by the death of the very talented and troubled British singer Amy Winehouse. I am praying for her soul. May she rest in peace.

While she was obviously haunted by self-destructive patterns of behavior, I don't assume she was trying to destroy her life. Like so many, she needed help, and never seemed to have the right people in her life who could give her the help she needed most. Perhaps she rejected the help she most needed. I don't know.

Something about Amy's very sad end makes me think that she was a sort of symbolic microcosm in one person of some segments of Europe's young--desiring to live a passionate life, wanting to contribute something notable, meaningful and beautiful to society, wanting to lift other souls to the potentially rapturous heights of human artistry that can become a reality in music, taking the pains and sorrows of human relationships in a fallen world and somehow redeeming them a little bit by letting the scars seep into the music and become something soulful. And yet, at the same time, experiencing a state of hopelessness, watching one's own life spiral out of control and not knowing how to stop it or what to do about it, perhaps even being somewhat indifferent about trying to arrest the descent. This, it seems to me from a distance, is what some of the youth of Europe are living. It's a very dangerous place to be. And it can be lethal.

In saying this, I do not mean to treat Amy's life only as having value to me as a mere parallel to the troubled young of Europe. She was her own, unique, unrepeatable, irreplaceable, beautiful person. As is true of every human being, there is no one else like her--she was her own particular universe of value and meaning within herself and ought not be reduced by the shallow pundits of society to simply an occasion to try to say something that gets a few seconds of attention.

So, please say a prayer for Amy Winehouse, for the repose of her soul. And say a prayer as well, for the many troubled youth of today who struggle between the tension of wanting to live in the throes of passion, meaning, and love, and can't catch hold of how to do this, becoming trapped instead in an increasingly harmful life which they know on some level is pointed toward death, yet they stay there for lack of hope of finding a path which could take them toward that deeper passion, meaning and love which their hearts yearn to possess. And since they have lost hope for finding this path, they prefer the passions of a destructive life pointed toward death--at least it seems to be a life that is human in the sense of not being banal, even if hope of something fully worthy of the dignity of the human person has been lost.

In some way, this earlier post of mine seems relevant. When we try to encourage someone we love to alter a destructive pattern in his life, can we also truly be a wellspring of real compassion, can we truly suffer with him (or her) as he calls upon the grace he needs, without which he will be unable to shift the course of his life from aiming at death to aiming at life?

Going Home: The House That Built Us Helps Point Us Back to Our Eternal Builder

Here is a beautiful country song, "The House That Built Me." [HT: Jill Stanek] It's sung by Miranda Lambert. I hadn't heard of her (I don't follow country music, though I do like it), but it seems she is a rising star in the country music world since she just won some big awards at the recent CMA awards show, including Female Vocalist of the Year. Take a listen. As you do, ask yourself, what is implied in a desire to learn something about myself through making physical contact with meaningful places from my childhood?



I'll bet this song strikes a chord with many people because it touches one of those fundamental themes that seems to be common to all people--a yearning to go home. In this song, it's a desire to make a visit to the house of one's childhood in order to kindle and relive cherished memories from the past. And, I think, also to gain a deeper insight into the person you have become as an adult. Sort of an imaginary look back at the child you once were from the perspective of adulthood, precipitated by a physical place that has a special meaning to your youthful self.

There is something mysteriously attractive about returning to special childhood places after you have grown beyond childhood. It's part, perhaps, of our continuing search to seek to know ourselves more truly, to answer that question, "Who am I?" The physical places where we lived and underwent our most formative experiences as a child seem to hold some essential piece to the puzzle of our true identity. And, there is probably no physical place more important in this regard than our childhood home.

I also tend to link this to the religious impulse that God has placed within us. By nature, we have a hidden, secret yearning to go home--to a home that is our true home, that place of genuine peace and belonging and deep, unquenchable joy. We want to find this place. And we seem to have a desire to connect this true home that we seek to that childhood place from which we came. Somehow, we sense that they are--or at least, should be--related.

Plato recognized that every human being who examines himself interiorly with some degree of seriousness discovers that he has certain longings and mysterious traces of understanding within his soul that could be interpreted as dim vestiges of a life before birth, barely discernible in the hidden and deepest depths of the soul. It's a kind of home, out of which one was taken, to be born into this world.

Now, as Christians, we realize that this is not true--we do not preexist the moment of our conception in our mother's womb. But, there is a trace here of something that is true. We come from God--we are loved by God into existence. And He knew us before we existed. We have a "home" from which we came that lovingly wove into our being a certain directedness to go back, to make a return to that place from which we came. We have a kind of spiritual homing beacon, pointing us back to God. And even though we may not realize it, when we seek to understand ourselves better by revisiting a cherished childhood home, we are also at the same time expressing in a mysterious way our desire to see more clearly where it is that we are headed toward--to gain some insight into that more perfect home toward which we want to go.

And although we can overdo this, it is true that the path into our future can be made a little bit more clear and understandable by going back to our past. And because we are bodily as well as spiritual creatures, this self-discovery-through-childhood-home-visiting necessarily has a physical aspect to it. As we touch and look upon a place which because of our personal past is special to our heart, without consciously trying, perhaps without even realizing this, we are also seeking to make our vision into our personal future a little more known to ourselves.

I listen to this song and watch this video, and to me, it's as though this song were saying on behalf of human society, "Oh house that built me, home of my past, tell me, to where am I going? What does my past life in your surroundings tell me about the as yet now-unseen place in which my heart desires to finally be?"

Singer Andrea Bocelli Telling a Story About His Life

Krauss and Plant on Artistic Collaboration, 2

Here is an interesting video with Alison Krauss, Robert Plant, and T Bone Burnett (who produced the album) speaking more about the process of making their collaborative 2007 album, Raising Sand. It relates to the subject of an earlier post, Krauss and Plant on Artistic Collaboration. (As well as this post, Yo-Yo Ma on Artistic Collaboration.)

I think this album is another example of artists producing something new and fresh as they deliberately embrace the work of those who have gone before them. In this process, the three (Krauss, Plant, and Burnett) seem to have had simultaneously in mind the spirit of the original artists and their songs, their own present-day musical intuitions, as well as the context of contemporary America with its similarities with and differences from the era in which this music was originally made.

We can see in this that paying careful attention and giving respect to the work of earlier artists--having the humility to follow in their footsteps--rather than stifling creativity, can actually serve as a strong and invigorating catalyst for producing something fresh and original and also delightfully accessible to a broad audience.



The Rounder Records promotional web site for the album describes the result as, "an album that uncovers popular music’s elemental roots while sounding effortlessly, breathtakingly modern."

When an artist remains trapped in the closed-in solipsism that seems to be encouraged in at least some modern art-world circles, I doubt if anything so enduring and broadly appealing (and therefore having such broad impact) could result.

For another musical example of the old and the new being creatively combined together to make something delightful, see Ray Charles, "Oh What a Beautiful Morning."

[And for more on the theme of the old and the new coming together, see here]

"A Living Prayer," Alison Krauss and Union Station: Wonderfully Catholic Sentiments

Here is a beautiful ballad, "A Living Prayer," sung by Alison Krauss with her band Union Station on the Tonight Show. The song was written by Ron Block, the man playing the guitar over Alison's left shoulder.

I can't help but think as I listen to the lyrics of this song, how Catholic it truly is.The sentiments behind wanting to be a "living prayer" to God as we go through life and wanting to live "inside the love the Father gives," are deeply Catholic. One could meditate and pray over these simple words with much benefit. Indeed, may we all strive, by the indwelling of the Spirit within us, to be a living prayer to the Father, learning to live inside His love in the way we care for others. The feeling behind these lyrics goes beyond seeing the loving deeds we do for others merely as a confirmation of the authenticity of our faith. These are the expressions of a heart that understands, on some level, that by being a living prayer in the way we give ourselves in love for other people, not only do we truly bring Christ to others through our own loving actions, as we do so, we ourselves also grow closer in personal intimacy to His heart.

Yo-Yo Ma on Artistic Collaboration

I discovered an interesting set of podcasts. Sony Music has something they call, "Sony Masterworks Podcasts." Included in this is a section on the recordings of cellist Yo-Yo Ma.
And in this section is a podcast titled,
"Musical Friends, Trust, & Collaboration."

In this particular podcast, Yo-Yo Ma talks about what is needed for a good musical collaboration. I transcribed a section of this. I think these remarks apply not only for music, but for any artistic collaboration.

Preconditions for great musical collaboration. Of course there's no formula for chemistry. If there were, there would be great chemistry all the time. But if you had to put approximations of what might be good chemistry between people, I think good chemistry can only occur when two people are ready for it, when people are actually open to it. If one person is closed off, and the other person is willing, you can't have a great musical collaboration. So it's a timely thing, because not everybody is open all the time; and not everybody is closed all the time, hopefully. . . But, there are certain moments when people can be open to each other and to something maybe similar or different; like-minded people--they're searching. . . Once people are open there is the willingness to share what they know--the willingness to not just own and say, "This is mine, you can't play with my toys." But, rather, "This is my toy. And you can play with it. Try this." Or, "Try that. Take it into your room. See what it does in your room." Then, there has to be enough mutual respect from both people to say, "Look, I don't really love your toy but I really like you. So maybe I'll play with your toy and then I discover that your toy is really interesting." So, you have to have some predisposition for respect, that you are willing to take a certain risk. . . [A great collaboration] has to honor the fact that two people are willing to take a certain risk, to trust each other, to be vulnerable to the other person, to have enough respect for each other as well as for yourself that you can be vulnerable and not feel that you are making a fool of yourself. . . All of those preconditions I think are important. . . . I think trust is an essential element in collaboration. . . You have to be willing to jump and have the other person catch you.

So, as pointed out by Yo-Yo Ma, these are especially important themes for a fruitful artistic collaboration (these all apply mutually to the collaborators):

• openness
• willingness to share
• respect (for yourself as well as for each other)
  
• willingness to take risks
• trust
• vulnerability

[images from the Internet Cello Society photo archive]

The Wexford Carol; A Beautiful, Ancient Christmas Song Sung by Alison Krauss

Happy Advent to all! This is the first week of the Advent season--the season of waiting in quiet expectation for the coming of Jesus into the world.

I am not a fan of overdoing Christmas-themed celebrations before the actual day of Christmas. I think there is wisdom in following the Catholic Church's lead on this, of waiting for the big day and then celebrating for a period of days afterwords. Pre-Thanksgiving Christmas hoopla definitely strikes me as too early, and sadly, brought about primarily for commercial reasons, not reasons of faith.

But, making concession for reality, I want to post this video now instead of waiting for Christmas Day.

Here is a hauntingly beautiful Irish Christmas song, The Wexford Carol, in the style of a Celtic ballad, sung by Alison Krauss and accompanied by Yo-Yo Ma on Cello (Natalie MacMaster plays violin). It dates back to the 12th century.
[For the lyrics see here]




To hear Yo-Yo Ma comment on this song and Alison's singing, go to the podcast here.

Thoughts about music from conductors [4]

Continuing with the general theme of art and artistic creation, this is part 4 of a series [see part 1 here, part 2 here, and part 3 here] drawing from Hilary Hahn's interviews with various conductors.

Here is another excerpt from Hilary's interview with Grant Cooper.

HH: What benefits did you glean from studying classical music?

GC: First of all, one cannot help but be overwhelmed by the genius of the great masters of composition; for me, that is a window into a greater reverence for human capacity and spirituality. . . .

The most beneficial thing for me about what music taught me is that it's ok to abandon scientific methods, that science is not the only way to approach music and life in general.

When you play a wind instrument or sing, everything is covered up, all of your technique is hidden inside the body. You may think you understand what you're doing, but then, when you change one variable and that sets off a chain of reactions, you realize you're in a science experiment from hell. Music taught me to let my body find its own way, to allow Zen-like enlightenment and experience to take place - learning to "let" it happen, rather than "make" it happen. I should say that music itself didn't teach me that; the process of becoming a musician did.

It's revelatory to realize as a musician that, from the 20th century onwards, we've tended to become really ingrained in the scientific viewpoint, to lose sight of how the Mozarts and Beethovens viewed this world. We tend to be overly reverent of absolute notation as we see it in the score. When you consider it, each marking in a score can mean a whole range of things, depending on its musical context. Take the whole idea of music responding to the text of an opera: a Mozart opera is the most glorious example. His marking of a simple forte or piano could mean completely different things depending on the text being sung. Mozart's music demands that we think of a forte, for example, in many ways - a "yearning" forte, a "defiant" forte, a "loving" forte. Yet, to some modern musicians, those markings are scientific; forte means loud and piano means soft. One has to open one's mind to the realization that absolute, defined concepts are not the answer to musical problems.

A few points I would draw from the above:

1. Reverence for the masters of the past. One need not try to copy them, but it is appropriate and highly formative as an artist to learn all that you can from the greatest artists who have lived.

2. Great art provides a window into the human soul. It gives form to the spiritual dignity and nobility of the human person.

3. Artistry involves different powers of the human person than are involved with the empirical sciences (though I do not claim they are entirely different). While art can be studied in a scientific fashion, producing art is not a scientific (in the modern sense) endeavor. There are powers of understanding, of spiritual perception, of intuition, of empathy, that are somehow different from what is entailed in empirical scientific undertakings. [Although it should be said that some aspects of modern science--conceiving of possible new discoveries and intuitions leading to new theories--do have similarities to creating art.]

4. For persons with artistic talent there are aspects of developing their talent that they do not fully understand in the sense of being able to rationally explain in an exhaustive way how they create and perform as a musician. They are able to practice fruitfully and grow in the virtues of musicianship even though the rational part of their mind is not able to completely translate this process into a thorough explanation in words. They become better musicians primarily by engaging in the act of playing music and secondarily by thinking systematically about music. Thinking in an orderly fashion about one's art is certainly helpful and important to being a well-rounded artist, but there is no replacement for the human act of music-making. Without huge amounts of dedicated practice one might become a scholar of music (or, say, an art historian), but could never become an accomplished musician. For this you must practice your craft with a critical ear.

5. Music, as all art, is a deeply human endeavor. And as such, great art, while accessible and meaningful and not trying to be self-enclosed for its own sake, does have an element of mystery. This is because it is human. Poor art can be obscure because it is self-enclosed. Great art is not obscure, rather, it taps into a cosmos of meaning that is inexhaustible. Great art pulls at the heart with meanings too deep for words--a level of communication that is ineffable even as it is deeply real and human. It is full of meaning, understandable, and yet also touching mysteries just beyond the illuminating rays of the mind's eye. This has something to do with why, as Cooper says, "absolute, defined concepts are not the answer to musical problems." This is not to imply that art should be seen as completely irrational or enigmatic--no. Rather, it is something like recognizing that the deepest meaning of a poem cannot be found simply by knowing the rules of grammar (though this may be helpful). It is like realizing that the character of a living person cannot be captured completely by any created form, though one might capture various glimpses.

Ray Charles, "Oh What a Beautiful Morning"

More Ray Charles!

Here is an incredibly awesome performance of Ray doing his special jazz version of this classic American song from the Musical, Oklahoma, on Johnny Carson's Tonight Show (and Carson's Tonight Show Band was always a really great band). If you like big band jazz at all, you will love this! It's amazing what he does with this song. I can't imagine anyone else but him singing it like this. One of a kind.

It has a slow intro and then starts swingin' at 2:00.

I love how he puts his entire body into the music! And you can tell it's sincere. He can't help but almost jump out of his skin in his genuine enthusiasm for the music. It's as though every cell of his body is totally absorbed into the soul of the song. Just awesome!!!



This is a good example of great art coming out of a close familiarity with the past. Ray took something older and very familiar to American culture, mixed it up with something a little more recent, and in the mix made it very much his own. And though it is very different from the original, it still has a recognizable trace of its original form. This is one of the reasons the final result is so pleasing. It is old and new and unique and (slightly) familiar all at the same time. It takes real artistic genius to pull this off so well.

Update: If you are a fan of Ray Charles, you will be interested in this. There is a new video podcast series, "Ray Charles, Genius," on Ray and his music available on YouTube. I especially enjoyed the following two episodes: Playing with Ray Charles, and The Real Ray Charles, According to Mike Post. If you are a music lover there is some great behind-the-scenes information in these episodes.

I also especially enjoyed one particular clip from a series of video interviews with Ray made by the National Visionary Leadership Project. Go to this web page, and play the episode, "My First Piano Lessons." (You will need the ability to play wmv files; Windows Media Player or RealPlayer will both work). In this clip Ray talks about his very first experience of the piano when he was only four, via a local boogie-woogie piano player whose music captivated him. It's pretty neat. At the end of the clip he makes this insightful remark, "[music] was just something that was in me, that I just had to be a part of it."

This remark fits nicely with the following idea which I believe is true: great artists have a sense that somehow in the creative process they are tapping into something beyond themselves. The spirit of the artistic impulse is both inside and outside them. When they are engaged in their art, they are not acting completely alone--they are not an isolated island. Somehow, as they create or perform, they are also mysteriously connected to a spiritual reality that informs the artistic process. Note, Ray did not say he had to create music out of nothing as though it were a solitary endeavor; rather, he said he "just had to be a part of it." It, was an already existing reality to which he wanted to become more consciously attuned and connected.

And if you liked that one, the clip, "Hearing my first arrangement," is also quite fun and charming. He describes how thrilling it was for him the first time, still a boy, that he heard musicians play an arrangement of music he had written.

Ray Charles

Another musician whose music I love is the late Ray Charles. There was an incredible ebullience underlying his performances. Soulfulness, joyfulness, mischievousness, intensity, liveliness, quiet passion, are things that come to my mind when I think of Ray Charles' performances.

This is quite fun. Here is a video of Charles appearing on Sesame Street singing the alphabet song to a jazzy shuffle beat with some kids gathered around.



Sadly, he is an example of an artist whose personal life was in some ways not the most admirable. Again, we are confronted with the complexity and fallenness of human life.

I saw him perform live around 2001 or so and it was amazing the incredible zeal, the charisma, and the high performance energy that he still possessed in his 70's!

Krauss and Plant on artistic collaboration

Here is an interesting and kind of fun clip of iconic musicians Alison Krauss and Robert Plant (renowned bluegrass/country, and rock musicians, respectively) in a backstage interview at the 2009 Grammy awards. They collaborated on the 2007 duet album, Raising Sand; it won an impressive five Grammys, including album of the year.

The part I find most intriguing begins at 0:35 in the clip. Robert Plant describes how in making this album he and Alison both intentionally stepped back from their usual roles while doing their own solo projects wherein they are in control and instead let someone else (producer T Bone Burnett) direct the creative process. They did this for the sake of the music. This is a nice example of established artists, who certainly bring longstanding habits and strong views of their own to a project, realizing that they each need to embrace a certain sort of humility in collaboration so that the music can be the focus and not so much themselves.

Here is how Plant put it:

We both removed our own producer hats that we have in our own worlds and gave them to T Bone Burnett [the album's producer] and so we were in a place that was quite magical; it was like a really, a new world for both of us.

I would say this illustrates another principle that is important when artists work together on a joint project: each collaborator must place his (or her) own ego aside and be willing to accept direction and ideas from others for the sake of the overall project. Each one gives generously for the sake of a shared artistic vision which, while not the sole possession of any single contributor, belongs to the group as a whole. The final artistic product benefits greatly from this sort of humility.

Thoughts about music from conductors [3]

This is part 3 of the series I began here with part 1 and here with part 2 . . . .

A third conductor Hilary Hahn interviewed was Grant Cooper. She asked him,

HH: What kept you with it?

GC: I think that comes back to communication. I really find that we musicians communicate on so many different levels (one-on-one, in larger ensembles with other musicians, with the public, etc.) and in so many different ways: unspoken, mysteriously even, and through shared experiences.

Two points to be drawn from this:

1. There are at least three different levels of communication that a musician might experience while performing. First, if there are only two musicians, communicating with only one other artist. Second, if there are more than two musicians, communicating with a collective of other artists (which is different than interacting with only one). And third, communicating with the audience. Each level of communication goes in both directions. Note, only two of these levels may take place simultaneously (for the first and second cannot happen together by definition).

2. There are a variety of ways in which interactions among fellow performers and between performers and audience happen. Many are non-verbal, mysterious, spiritual, subtle and yet powerful, deeply human, almost telepathic. It is almost as though one were wordlessly passing momentary impressions and emotions back-and-forth to each other, one heart directly to another. As the feeling is passed and becomes shared it gains additional qualities. A poignant and deeply human moment is first privately alive in one's self, then comes to life among a communion of persons. These "moments" happen briefly, like a succession of waves rushing upon a beach. Some are small and delicate, others large and strong. And when things are going especially well and the muse of music visits, there is a sense within those who are most plugged-in to the shared experience that they are somehow, both "in time" and "beyond time."

I think it may be the case that the above points apply more to music than to other art forms. For music, uniquely, is a living art form. It moves dynamically through time, even though it can be represented statically in the form of ink on paper. Music is not fully itself unless being performed. And as it is performed, it is alive. Like a human life, it cannot be captured in or reduced to a single point in time.

By sharing the reality of a musical performance we are given a means to experience communion with each other in a way that is both meaningful and unique; and hopefully it may also be revelatory, insight-bestowing, and wisdom-enriching--in a word, humanizing.

[For more on similar themes see my comments and the videos of Hilary Hahn in two earlier posts here and here.]

Thoughts about music from conductors [2]

This is part 2 of the series I began here with part 1. . . .

Christian Gansch is another conductor Hilary Hahn interviewed. She asked him,

Q: A very compelling aspect of your profession?

A: Music is both an intellectual and an emotional pursuit, for some people even a fulfillment of a basic human need. It's wonderful to have the opportunity to conduct orchestras and be part of that musical experience – but even if I didn't conduct, I'd still study scores (Beethoven, Bruckner, Ravel, Debussy, or Strauss, or Prokofiev, for example). Music is healing, and it illustrates the soul as if in a mirror of compassionate objectivity. [emphasis mine]

A couple points I would draw from this:

1. Music (and any artistic endeavor) at its best involves more than one part of the human person; it stirs up a complex symphony of intellect, will, and emotion--of head, heart, and guts--of reason, desire, and passion.

2. Great art helps reflect the human soul back to itself--for artist and audience both. Part of the task of becoming more human is to understand the human condition more keenly. For this, one needs to be able to establish a certain distance between the immediacy of one's own most powerful experiences, and reason. In other words, we have to step back a bit from ourselves in order to assess ourselves calmly within our own minds. This might be called "compassionate objectivity." Great art can provide us a privileged view, through the lens of compassionate objectivity, into the deeper mysteries of the human condition.


It seems to me that Christian Gansch's answer supports my thoughts about the importance of an artist not being completely self-absorbed during the creative process. For while an artist immersed only in himself may be engaged in a journey of self-understanding (although I am skeptical of this; I would suggest he cannot do this authentically without conscious reference to the world beyond himself), it is likely that he will have erected a barrier for his art ever to be able to serve as a meaningful catalyst of a similar journey for other people. The language spoken by artist and audience has to have something in common if they are to come together through art in a shared quest for deeper insight.

Thoughts about music from conductors [1]

I think I will make this a series. . . Violinist Hilary Hahn thought it would be interesting to do some interviews where instead of her being the interviewee, she would ask other music professionals questions about music. Available at her official web site are the transcripts from these interviews (there are five total as of this posting).

I would like to give a few selected excerpts from these interviews as they contain some interesting thoughts about music. And I think they also may be applied more broadly to any form of art. They help to shed further light on that wonderful aspect of being human which is our propensity for artistic creativity.

Here is an excerpt from an interview Hilary did with conductor Bramwell Tovey. Hilary is the questioner:

Q: Classical music in schools – what difference does it make, and why is it important?

A: [. . .] An education without a significant musical component is not a proper education. Music is a language and understanding something of it as a performer or listener is an important part of a well educated mind. The musical philosophies of Beethoven and Mahler are easily appreciated as life enhancing. In the case of Shostakovich, who for some reason still baffles some listeners, he heroically articulated the despair of the human condition under the nose of Stalin at a time when his compatriots were being imprisoned in the gulag. An understanding of the language of classical music is part of understanding our civilization [. . .]

And so, Tovey holds that having a serious exposure to the tradition of classical music that has come before our time is a life-enriching experience. It helps make us more human. His comment about Shostakovich acknowledges how art can reflect elements of an artist's society in a powerful way. It also illuminates the fact that learning about the history and cultural context of the times in which an artist lived is a great help in being able to more deeply receive and appreciate his art.


A few key points might be teased out, reflecting on and embellishing the above:

1. Music (and art more broadly) is an important component of the formation of an educated person. Art provides something to the human soul that is unique. Other kinds of human endeavors cannot replace the special contribution that art makes to a flourishing, well-rounded human life.

2. Being able to appreciate great art in all its depth and profundity requires some education about art. This is not to say that art cannot be enjoyed deeply without this, for it certainly can. But, to gain the most that one possibly might from great art requires at least some amount of artistic education in particular. As Tovey put it, certain types of art speak a kind of "language." Knowing something about this language adds to the ability of a receiver of art to receive in more abundance what a work of art has to give.

3. Part of the education necessary to fully benefit from the work of a particular artist is to learn about the life history of the artist, the history of his society and about the contemporary culture in which he lived.

4. A major facet of Western civilization is its artistic patrimony. If we are to understand our own civilization and its place in the world we must know something about the history, purposes, and special qualities of its great art.

I'll close with another question Hilary asked of Bramwell Tovey,

Q: A very compelling aspect of your profession?
A: The fact that every day of my life I am dealing in some of the greatest creations of the human mind.

Indeed!

Satriani on advisability of children entering too early into music business

Here is a short clip where Satch talks about children and the music business. He makes some great points. His remarks are as valid for children involved in any art form as they are for music in particular.



Here are a few points I think follow from and/or are very much in harmony with what Joe says in this clip:

1. Even though certain children may have great artistic talent, they should not enter the realm of the professional performer/musician until they are no longer children and have developed the minimum maturity necessary to handle the various difficult, harsh, even cruel at times realities of the professional music world.

2. The full range of talents and skills necessary to live successfully as a professional artist require more than artistic talent alone. One also needs savvy business skills, prudence about one's own career, and insight into human nature. It is important to have the spiritual maturity one needs to handle disappointments and criticism in healthy way.

3. Maturing young artists need guidance from wise elder practitioners of their art. This is highly preferable to going it alone. They may benefit greatly from the counsel of more experienced artists in both the development of their artistic talent and in many other areas in which they need to gain wisdom in order to navigate the professional art world.

4. Along with great talent, it is necessary for anyone aspiring to make a living as an artist that they have a deep and enduring love and passion for their art and for the creative process. The art itself should be the primary reward rather than expectations of financial success.

Joe demonstrates here an admirable concern for the souls of young musicians and not just a tunnel-visioned interest in their talent (as I suspect is the case with some involved in the arts). He cares for the whole person and makes these comments on that basis. This perspective should inform any experienced adult involved with guiding and encouraging young aspiring artists of any sort. Don't consider them only in regard to their particular talents as artists--rather, keep in mind the whole person and what is best for them as human beings from the big-picture point of view. Kudos to Satch for his example!

"Give me One Reason" Tracy Chapman & Eric Clapton

I have to post this song also. Below is a video of Tracy Chapman and Eric Clapton (another musician I love) performing her bluesy song, "Give me One Reason." The two of them together here are awesome! This version of the song is really fantastic! If you like blues, or Chapman, or Clapton, you will love this.



What about these lyrics? Do they suggest something true about the mysteries of love?

Two things about love, to me, are hinted at in this song. First, is that love is not automatic--it requires work. Neither party can simply assume it will remain as it is without effort; it is necessary for each person to tell the other they love each other--and including at times, why--reasons why you find the other person calls forth your love (as in, "give me one reason . . ."). The second, is that love between two people does not completely erase the fact that human beings are never completely, totally, 100% compatible in this life. Sometimes we speak as though there is a "perfect" love if only the right person could be found. But, in reality, our souls yearn for a perfection of love that no human being could ever give us in its totality. Sin gets in the way. So, in this life, the mystery of love between human persons--even two people who are a good match and who love each other genuinely--has a little bit of an edgy, thorny quality. We want to be with a lover, but then, at times we want to escape, to get away, to be alone. This song nicely captures this edgy ambivalence that lurks underneath love and that can creep up to the surface if we don't continue to work (as in the first point) to fan the flames.

I love blues music. Isn't it great! And behind its simple lyrics can be rather profound snippets of wisdom about life.

"You're the One," Tracy Chapman; love sees the beloved with a special depth

Have I mentioned Tracy Chapman on this blog yet? She is another singer/songwriter whose music I really love. When I first found out about her and bought my first Chapman album (her 1988 debut album, "Tracy Chapman"), around 1990 or so, I remember putting it into my car stereo (at the time I had a really great car stereo) and just sitting in my car with the music playing, completely immersed in the music--even mesmerized by it. The spirit she conveys in her music, its simplicity and directness and closeness to human experience is amazing.

Here is a video of Tracy Chapman singing, "You're the One."

I would like to observe that the lyrics of this song indicate a deep truth about people in love. Now the approach of the song toward this truth may not be altogether entirely healthy, but it still points the way to something true about real love. What is this truth? When two people love each other, they gain--through their love--a deeper insight into the hidden goodness of the other person. Love, in a special way, shines a clarifying light upon the unique inner truth that is the core identity of the other person. This song, I think, taps into this reality. She may not have been thinking exactly this way, but nonetheless I think this truth about the ability of love to know the beloved in a special way lies behind the song's lyrics. This is also suggested in that the song speaks of others who are critical of the singer's loved one. But in spite of this she proclaims her loyalty. Now, this might be (and sometimes is) because she is deluded. But, it could also be because her love permits her to see things in the beloved that others cannot see.

Listen to the lyrics, and see if you don't agree with me. (And, you gotta love those cool percussion dudes playing beat boxes with their hands.)

This song is so smooth. With all of her songs, I love the way the music just seems to flow out of her, with such a simple directness and authenticity. Great!

"Overdriver" song by Joe Satriani

Back to guitarist Joe Satriani for a little bit. . .

On his 2008 album, "Professor Satchafunkilus And The Musterion Of Rock," Satch has a song called "Overdriver." I think it's a great tune. It has a neat groove and is fun to listen to.

In the following video clip he describes the origin of this song. He was thinking of a particular childhood memory as he composed this. It's quite intriguing. It has to do with coloring. (his explanation is in the first minute; the second minute is just a partial audio excerpt from the song along with a photo slideshow)



And in this next video he plays the whole song at a clinic for guitar players. Before he performs the song, he describes some of the musical details about the song, and a little about the pedals he uses. You can see from this how much careful thought goes into composing music. There are various layers of structure and organization that makes it all come together in an interesting and pleasing way. I find it very interesting to get some insight into how a great musician like this thinks about one of his compositions. If you just want to skip right to the song, go to 4:10 in the video.

Joe Satriani 2; importance of developing your craft the right way

Following up from my first Satriani post, here is another segment from the Joe Satriani interview that I especially like. This clip is part 10 (of 11 total).
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I transcribed the comments I think are the most illuminating:

There’s no substitute for practicing. Students have to be completely honest with themselves about what they don’t know, and that they have to get on track and start learning it. . . . You don’t have to learn it all today, but do something where every day you get better and better. . . . It’s really quite obvious, we just have to be very straightforward with ourselves, and that’s how we arrange our practicing. But I would say that, and I remind students all the time, they will not have a career based on the demonstration of practice techniques. [. . .]

The ultimate goal is playing music, being evocative, lifting people’s spirits, being an entertainer; it’s all part of it. The practicing is supposed to help you do that. [. . .]

Find out what it’s like to play for human beings. . . . I don’t want to reduce it to a job, but I mean that’s what a musician does; Society wants musicians to make music for them—I mean, that’s what we’re supposed to be doing. So, if you’re practicing and it’s not helping you do that, well then you’re not practicing right. [emphasis mine]

I think the key phrase above can be altered to apply to all realms of art:

Society wants artists to make art for them. That's what artists are supposed to be doing. Indeed!

By this, I mean that great art is made both for the artist and for his audience. It's the for the audience part that I think, especially in artistic realms outside music (which immediately dies as a money-earning venture if it ignores the audience), tends to get lost today. Great art involves a relationship, a community of sorts, between artist and audience.

Joe Satriani on music

I have been getting reacquainted via the wonder of YouTube with one of my favorite musicians I used to listen to some years back: the incredible rock guitarist, Joe Satriani. He is one of a handful of instrumental electric guitar players who is successful as a solo musician. He is a "guitar player's guitar player."

Joe (known also as "Satch") is the youngest of five children from an Italian family. I assume he is probably Catholic, but I don't know for sure. His style is mostly hard rock, but, in my opinion, his music is very purposeful, very musical, and very distinctive. His songs can be quite beautiful, imaginative, and melodic, even as they are "rock'n." He doesn't just thrash for the sake of thrashing. He plays with a musical vision clearly in mind and communicates that vision well through his playing. If great electric guitar playing interests you, check out some of Satriani's live performances here, here, and here. (The last one, "Flying in a Blue Dream," is awesome!)

One of the things I like about Satriani, as is evident from interviews with him, is that he is not a stereotypical rocker with a big ego and a party-hard attitude. He seems to be a very down-to-earth, really nice guy. And he takes his music very seriously--a dedicated, hard-working musician. He is first and foremost a professional musician and artist. This is one reason why his career has been primarily as a solo artist. He prefers to perform his own songs rather than play someone else's music. In this way (he remarked in an interview), he can maintain a strong personal, emotional attachment to every piece of music. Each song has a unique personal meaning for him and comes out of a particular mental world to which he returns as he performs; each one transports him to a certain emotional place. And this is what he prefers as a performing artist.

I found an 11 segment video interview with Joe on YouTube, part of a "Living Legends Music" series. The whole interview is very interesting. But I want to highlight two parts. The first in this post, and the second in a post following this.

Here is part 9 of the interview
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The following items from this segment struck me as especially interesting. They remind me of themes that are similar to previous posts I have made about music and art.

1. Speaking of how his music is always under development and that his experience of life is always in contact with his musical art,

My way of dealing with it [life] has always been to internalize it and turn it into music, that’s what I do. So I write all the time. Maybe an eighth of what I write winds up being heard by the public.

2. And this remark is suggestive to me of the dual goals that good artists have to hold together harmoniously if they are going to create art that an audience can relate to and that has a chance of lasting--the twin goals of being faithful to your own personal artistic vision and of creating art that is accessible to and mindful of your audience.

During the playing of a song, part of me is on some sort of, um, trip—I don’t know how to explain it. I’m sure there’s a part of me that is being the professional musician, keeping it together, making sure that I represent this melody the way the fans need it to be represented. [emphasis mine]

Satriani has a well developed sense of how a good song is both a) unique, personal, special to the artist creating it, and b) something the audience can attach to and love as well. This involves using a dynamic interplay of the artist’s unique inner vision together with perennial sounds and ideas loved by his audience.

In this segment he also spoke about dealing with and preparing for the unexpected in performances, and, making each song unique and connecting to each emotionally.