Listening to music

I received two papers from a non-music major in a music appreciation class I teach. I was struck by the vividness of the metaphors this student chose. This first bit was written in response to the Mozart A-major piano concerto, K. 488:

The timbre of strings seem to always remind me of silk banners flapping in the wind. Or sometimes it reminds me of an old Twix commercial, where it showed melted chocolate being poured over a caramel cookie bar. The dynamics shifting from moderately soft to moderate and then steadily crescendo in the beginning of track 6 remind me of watching how the rich chocolate would smother all over the cookie bar. Since the middle of track 6 and beginning of track 7, you can hear the accompaniment of a flute. I like how both the flute and strings timbre seem to “cooperate” with each other like a clown fish and an anemone in the beginning of the track, and than merge into a polyphonic texture, as if the the flute and strings were talking back and forth to each other.


One thing that strikes me in that response is the similarity between the silk banners flapping in the wind and the chocolate oozing onto the cookie. I can almost feel the velvety texture of both objects. And the flute and strings don't just cooperate: they cooperate in the same way a clown fish and a sea anemone cooperate.

This second bit (an assignment that was due a week later) was in relation to the first movement of Beethoven's fifth symphony:

The beginning of this piece totally reminds me of a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Beyond a doubt, this can go with a scene of where the characters are running frantically through a building with lots of stairs. I like how in the beginning, the dynamics are “racy” and sporadic. The timbre of the strings are not “thick” and “creamy” as in other pieces I listened to, but in the first minute of the piece, they are swift and cutting. [...] Then reading the description of the transitions in the text and then actually listening to it, I get the thought that there is a comical argument going on. The frantic serious dynamics that start off in the beginning resemble a stern father, and the gentle, joyous transitions are the young daughter. They are arguing at the fact that she is wearing too much makeup.


Of interest in the second paragraph is the student's reference to his earlier position on the creaminess of the strings. The fact that the daughter is young, and that the argument is (specifically) about her wearing too much makeup is interesting in light of its specificity.

After thinking about both of these remarkably vivid responses for a while, it occurred to me that I simply don't hear music this way. I don't think at this point in my life I ever could. And I'm kinda' disappointed in that. When I listen to Beethoven's fifth, I hear motives being transformed, dominant areas being prolonged, the horn player playing slightly out of tune. I sympathize with the bass players in John Eliot Gardner's recording because the trio is so fast. I hear the transformation of the opening motive throughout the subsequent three movements. But no Bugs Bunny cartoons, no standoffish young daughters, and worst of all, no clownfish.

I wonder--who is having the more fulfilling listening experience? Would I be a happier music listener if I didn't hear the harmonies, out-of-tune notes, etc.? (I'd most certainly be out of a job!) Is my student perhaps enjoying the music more because he "sees" such vivid pictures in his mind? Would his listening experience be enhanced if he knew more about harmony, voice leading, instrumental technique?*

I understand that this gets into the realms of topical analysis, semiotics, film music, etc. My problem with that approach in the present situation is the specificity of his examples. Sure, we can point to things that evoke the pastoral, and I can understand where he might see/hear "cooperation," but what specifically about Mozart's piano concerto evokes clownfish?

P.S. My wife often laughs at me because I still don't know the words to some songs that I've been listening to for 20 years. I know every note and inflection of the bass line, but I couldn't tell you what they're singing about.

*It seems to me that this is the tacit assumption that underlies all music appreciation classes.

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