The Need for Music

I cannot imagine daily life without daily music. It is for my sanity as well as enjoyment. The day the music stops, then stop the world; I want to get off. As poet Edna St. Vincent Millay said, “Without music I should wish to die.” And composer Aaron Copland said, “To stop the flow of music would be like the stopping of time itself, incredible and inconceivable.”

The longest I have gone without music was during boot camp in the Marine Corps. Twelve weeks at Paris Island without music, while training to be effective killers. After we graduated, we went to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, for advanced infantry training. During the second week, someone found a little portable radio. Twenty or so of us hovered around that radio, transfixed by the music it belted out. As the music played, we fell back into our civilian selves again; we entered a calmer place.

I believe we are all born with a singular song in our hearts, much like the uniqueness of our voices or fingerprints. It is for us to sing our song; no one else can sing the song of our souls for us. If our song gets crushed, meaning our soul-life suffers rejection or desecration, we can croon along with Peggy Lee in her classic song, “Look what they’ve done to my song, Mom, look what they’ve done to my song.” And even if we cannot carry a tune, our song still lives in us.

I tell people that I believe every one of us will be able to carry a tune in heaven, or it would be more a hell than a heaven. Whatever your view of the Absolute, music is surely of heaven; music comes from whatever and wherever heaven is. I trust that heaven is full of music, and that once there we will sing new songs, ones we cannot hear here.

Musical compositions, from symphonies to simple songs, come to composers. Music presents itself, whether as an immediate whole or as something drawn out over time. The composer Mozart heard music and wrote down what he heard, rarely editing or modifying what he received as a sheer gift. Wagner awoke from a nap by a fireplace and a whole opera began coming to and through him. Where does such music come from? As Nietzsche said concerning composing words: “When it comes, you don’t ask from where, you just take it.”

The therapeutic dimension of music has been known for thousands of years. As the ancient philosopher Plato said, “Music can soothe the savage beast.” Music can help move us through negative emotional states and stages. Like humor, music can propel us to a better place, even if only temporarily.

Music is fundamentally relational and communal; it creates community and harmony in community. It is difficult to remain angry at someone with whom you are doing music. Music is shared; it is the common between persons, the audience as well as the musicians.

As I have written:

“Music gives voice to the heart. Through it, the heart speaks to itself in a language beyond translation. And where music reaches, reason cannot follow.

Music never lies. And its truths are never complete. When you seek music, you seek your freedom. For music is your winged self, calling unto you.”

Music is a heart-to-heart medium. In music we experience a real freedom. Though remaining earthbound, we can nevertheless soar in spirit through singing, and listening to the promising voice of our winged self.