(Originally posted on November 12, 1999)
In a previous column, “Gazing at Composition,” I attempted to model the “act of composition” itself. In this follow-up, “A Further Look at Composition,” I would like to consider the environment and phenomena surrounding that act, and from there, feed it back into the act of composition. In other words, I want to explore the question, “Why is empathy through music possible, and where does music’s uniqueness lie?”
As I’ve mentioned in other columns, we composers are practitioners of musical creation before we are musicologists. In the extreme, I believe we are permitted to think about composition from a standpoint free from logical validity or scientific verification. This is because our primary focus is on creating the music we purely desire (on immersing ourselves in creation), before any contribution to science or academia. It can be said that my interest lies in what meaning this has for one’s own act of composition.
In that sense, I believe the purpose of this “Further Look at Composition” is to “create a story that affirms the possibility of empathy through music.” The challenge, then, is how one internalizes that story and uses it to create music. I believe the actions and existence of a creator are constantly being questioned.
Chapter 1: The Relationship Between Sound and Meaning
Let’s begin. Generally, composition can be said to be the act of creating music, but if we start by asking, “What is music?” we immediately get lost in a labyrinth of thought. Therefore, I will set that aside for now and start by spotlighting the “musical experience.” I hope to use the experience gained from continuously listening to music as a starting point and descend from there into the depths of music.
The music I refer to here does not include music as a metaphor (e.g., “the sound of the wind blowing through the forest is nature’s music”). I will assume specifically that “what you are creating is music.” And, for convenience, I will limit the discussion to “instrumental music” and exclude songs.
I will also not touch upon the boundary issues of creation, such as “where does composition begin and end?” This is because considering this point risks getting caught in the so-called “John Cage problem,” which could lead to skepticism about the act of composition itself and cause confusion. I believe John Cage is an opponent we must all eventually face for having exposed the essential questions of music to the light of day, but for now, I want to use my and your everyday “musical experience” as a foundation and value the process of checking against that experience.
Now, to proceed, I think we need to consider to some extent what it means to “listen to music,” which is the core of the musical experience. For both creators and listeners, everyone involved with music starts with this act of “listening.” Therefore, assuming that music and other sounds are both “sound,” I will first try to think about “the sound we perceive as music.”
From a physical perspective, music is made of sound, but what kind of sound do people perceive as music? When people listen to music, are they only listening to sound? We hear various sounds in our daily lives, but how do we distinguish between “mere sound” and “the sound we perceive as music”?
What are the characteristics of “the sound we perceive as music”? As a simple impression based on my experience, I can say it is something that moves the heart when heard. One could also say it’s something in which an embedded “something” is transmitted to us.
When we listen to music, I think we actively try to feel something from it, or we feel something that is naturally transmitted from the music. From such experiences, it certainly seems that there is *something* in music. This gives rise to the idea that music is “like a language that conveys some kind of meaning through sound.”
However, we realize that the following kinds of meanings conveyed through sound already exist: those conveyed through “speech sounds (spoken words)” and “everyday sounds (concrete sounds).”
Words are precisely for conveying meaning. If I say, “I am happy,” I can concretely convey the meaning “I am happy” to the listener. Everyday sounds also convey a concrete meaning, as the sound of breaking glass indicates “a certain piece of glass has broken.”
These sounds share a common feature: the side that signifies the meaning (the resounding sound) and the meaning itself (the concept to be conveyed, the existence of the glass) exist as separate entities, and they are linked.
The feeling of “happiness” is not contained within the words “I am happy”; rather, those words are thought to indicate the existence of the feeling of “happiness” in the speaker, “I.” This is easier to understand if you imagine the words “I am happy” written on a piece of paper. The one who is “happy” is “I,” not the “sentence” itself. Thus, the words that signify meaning and the meaning (the feeling) itself are separate.
To summarize this from another perspective, one could say that people hear speech sounds and everyday sounds as “indirect proof” of the existence of a concrete object.
That is, the sound of breaking glass indirectly proves “that glass has broken” to the person who hears it. And words expressing feelings indirectly prove the existence of the “concept to be conveyed”—the “state of the speaker’s feelings”—to the person who hears them. At that moment, one could say that the person is using the act of hearing sound as a “means” to understand “something” other than the sound.
This means that listening to speech sounds and everyday sounds is a means to know “something”—a “concrete object”—that exists outside the world of sound.
Next, based on these characteristics of speech and everyday sounds, I would like to consider the sounds we perceive as music in our daily lives.
Chapter 2: The Sound We Perceive as Music
Now that we have some understanding of the characteristics of “speech sounds” and “everyday sounds,” let’s next look at the sounds we perceive as music in our daily lives.
First, if a single piano note sounds—”plink”—at this point, it would be considered a concrete sound (a mere musical tone) indicating “a piano was played” or “a piano is there,” and you probably wouldn’t perceive it as music. This single note might have been produced by someone accidentally touching the key, or perhaps something was dropped on the keyboard.
Up to this point, it is the same as an “everyday sound.” The person who hears it might think, “Something fell on the keyboard,” and rush toward the piano, or they might think, “Someone is playing a prank.”
However, when these sounds continue in succession, a “relationship between sounds” is born. That is, a relationship emerges between the sound currently playing, the sound that played before it, and the sound that played even before that. This succession then flows continuously into the listener’s ear. At that point, we are forced to admit from experience that we begin to perceive “the sound I’m hearing is music” on a different plane from “the sound I’m hearing indicates the fact that a piano is being played.”
Thus, it seems that “the sound we perceive as music” has the characteristic of being a “succession of related sounds.” In this example, a piano melody that we “perceive as music” can be described as a succession of related piano notes.
However, upon thinking this far, we notice something else again: “Aren’t words (speech sounds) also a succession of related sounds?” Indeed, it seems that speech sounds can be described as a succession of related sounds combining various articulations.
Therefore, I would like to consider the difference between “speech sounds” and “the sound we perceive as music.” First, as mentioned earlier, “speech sounds” are sounds that signify their meaning. That meaning is concrete, and it is presupposed that the meaning intended by the speaker is transmitted to the listener without misunderstanding.
What about “the sound we perceive as music”? An example here would be the relationship between instrumental music and ideology. Can music convey a specific ideology as words can? Can one understand the ideology by listening to the piece?
Above all, is there definitively a concrete ideological meaning that the music signifies? Is it because one concretely “understands” that ideological meaning that one is moved by the piece? When the piece ends, does that concrete content called ideology reach the listener’s inner self? If one listens to the music without knowing the ideological background, isn’t it even more impossible to derive “something concrete that means the ideology” from it? Or is it the listener’s fault for not being able to perceive it? However, compared to speech sounds, which are understood by almost everyone who hears them, it is a fact that its degree of transmission is overwhelmingly low.
It is one’s freedom to try to imbue music with such things. However, I do not believe music can be used in the same role as words. Based on my experience, this is one of a difference between “speech sounds” and “the sound we perceive as music.”
Furthermore, when listening to speech sounds, we try to know the other concrete meaning that the speech sound (the word) signifies, and at this time, we listen to a continuous series of speech sounds from a single speaker. However, when listening to “the sound we perceive as music,” we are in a situation where various relationships of sound enter our ears at once.
The various elements that constitute a piece of music (melody, rhythm, harmony, timbre changes, etc.) can be listened to individually or as a whole without any confusion as “the sound we perceive as music,” and we can feel “something” from it. In collage music using phrase sampling, even multiple pieces are juxtaposed, and we still perceive these as music.
However, if you do the same with speech sounds, it would be impossible to understand their meaning unless you were Prince Shōtoku. Thus, speech sounds can only convey meaning as a single series of sound relationships, but “the sound we perceive as music” is free from such constraints and problems. This can also be said to be a major difference.
There are other differences. In the case of speech sounds, the same meaning can be expressed in different ways, and it can also be translated into other languages. This is possible precisely because the meaning lies outside of the expression itself. However, when it comes to “melody,” if you actually try to do such a thing, you will find yourself pondering.
Suppose there is a melody “G-A-B-C” accompanied by a certain accompaniment, and you change it to “A-B-G-C.” At that moment, do you feel that you have “translated the original melody into another melody with the same meaning”? Don’t you feel that the moment you changed it, the original melody disappeared and was replaced by a completely new and different melody?
In other words, aren’t we valuing the individuality of the melody? The reason we agonize over whether to make a single note in a long melody a “C” or an “E” is because we have experienced firsthand that a single note changes the expression of the melody, and its meaning for the creator. In other words, I believe there is something unique and irreplaceable in “the sound we perceive as music.” (Couldn’t the relationship between a theme and variations in so-called “theme and variations” also be described as a change, rather than a translation or substitution?)
To begin with, if there is a concrete meaning to be signified and it is expressed through speech sounds, we know from our daily conversations that it can be sufficiently communicated through various ambiguous phrasings. As an extreme example, in an office where a certain custom is established, even a speech sound like, “The letter, do that thing with it at that time,” can convey meaning.
Looking at it this way, I get the feeling that while people do perceive “something” by listening to “the sound we perceive as music,” that “something” does not exist concretely outside the world of sound. For the time being, one might say we are “listening in order to listen to something inherent in the sound we perceive as music.”
The “something” in “speech/everyday sounds” was concrete and existed outside the world of sound. It was a physical object or a concept to be conveyed. But the “something” in “the sound we perceive as music” seems to be contained and revealed within the sound itself.
For example, if we were to personify these sounds, an “everyday sound” would say, “I (the sound) am here because glass broke. You can hear me because glass broke.” A “speech sound” would say, “Please understand what I want to convey,” since the sound itself signifies the concept the speaker wants to convey. And wouldn’t “the sound we perceive as music” simply say, “Listen to me myself”?
As we have seen so far, I think the differences and characteristics between “the sound we perceive as music” and “speech/everyday sounds” have become somewhat clear. Therefore, from now on, I will refer to “the sound we perceive as music”—that is, “a succession of related sounds that we listen to for its own sake, whose intended ‘something’ is not thought to exist externally to the sound”—as “Musical Sound.” Please think of this not as an acoustical distinction like “musical tone,” “noise,” or “din,” but as sound that resonates as music—that is, “the sound that makes music music.” Concretely, on a large scale, it would be “the entire piece resonating,” and on a small scale, it would be “a fragment that makes one feel rhythm, melody, or harmony.”
It is important to note that a musical tone (the sound of an instrument) itself is not Musical Sound. Only when a musical tone changes over time in a way that makes one feel rhythm, or when multiple musical tones are related and succeed each other, do we call it “Musical Sound.”
This applies not just to musical tones but also, for example, to the “sound of clapping hands.” A single “clap” only conveys the meaning “hands were clapped.” From there, depending on social customs, it might be interpreted as “calling someone.” But when this “clap” sound is repeated and the listener begins to recognize a “fragment of rhythm” in it, one could say they begin to feel handclaps—that is, music. And the “something” that the rhythm of the “sound of clapping hands” tries to convey lies within the sound itself.
This is represented by the term “noise music,” which shows that even if a sound is noise on its own, it can sound like music depending on the relationship between sounds. Conversely, even the sound of a violin, which is recognized as a musical tone, could be called noise if it is just scraped like a saw. This is another reason why I have not made a particular acoustical distinction for “Musical Sound.”
Next, I would like to think about the meaning that “Musical Sound” is thought to have within it—that “something”—and try to approach the act of “listening to music.”
Chapter 3: What Musical Sound Conveys
We have seen that the sound we perceive as music differs in its nature and existence from the speech and everyday sounds we usually hear. We have decided to call that sound “Musical Sound,” and here I would like to consider what it signifies and approach the act of “listening to music.”
In doing so, we encounter the following opinion:
“Since ‘Musical Sound’ can be seen as signifying the musical work itself on a large scale, doesn’t its meaning lie in the ’emotions’ or ‘deep feelings’ that the composer intended to imbue it with? And isn’t whether it gets transmitted a separate issue? Furthermore, isn’t it actually the case that ‘Musical Sound’ itself has no more meaning than being a trigger, and that both the creator and the listener create meaning arbitrarily within themselves, merely sharing the intersection of those meanings? In other words, isn’t the idea that something is being transmitted from the creator to the listener actually a shared illusion?”
This refers to the following: within the listener who has heard a “Musical Sound,” the memory of their past musical experiences is drawn out by listening to that “Musical Sound,” and they themselves assign meaning to that “Musical Sound.” For example, the impression “that’s a sad melody” upon hearing a certain melody might indicate that the person’s memory of past emotions has been drawn out by the trigger of listening to that melody.
The musical experience I’m referring to here means the accumulation of things like the memory of music heard when feeling sad. A concrete example would be the memory of music heard during a sad scene in a drama. I think it also includes memories of emotions completely unrelated to music. Even if music sounds comical to most people, for a certain person, it might be linked to a painful memory, and just hearing it could bring tears to their eyes. Therefore, this view holds that the emotion that appears in the heart as a conditioned reflex upon hearing music is the “something” that the music is trying to convey.
This view is also the basis for opinions like “there are as many impressions as there are listeners” and “people’s perception of music varies.” In other words, the meaning of “Musical Sound” is the emotion that each person who hears it creates within themselves, and therefore, there is no “something” that is transmitted from the creator to the listener through the “Musical Sound itself.”
However, couldn’t we consider that it is precisely because the “Musical Sound” that triggered the creation of meaning within the listener has some kind of agency itself that the listener was able to derive meaning in the form of emotion from it? In other words, wasn’t the mental movement born within the listener generated by listening to the “Musical Sound” in the first place, rather than from the memory of emotions? Couldn’t we say that the fundamental power that moves the listener’s heart lies in the “phenomenon of Musical Sound itself”?
This is because, through our considerations so far, we have come to understand and feel that “Musical Sound” differs in its origin and existence from other sounds. Therefore, we cannot just say that because “Musical Sound,” unlike “speech” and “everyday sounds,” does not have a concrete external meaning, the sound itself has nothing to convey and is meaningless (just sound).
Also, based on my experience, in the very moment of listening to “Musical Sound,” I feel an individuality of the sound that can only be savored with that specific sound (music). It is not an impression from listening, but an individuality felt from the actual sound itself at each moment of listening—that “it has to be that sound.” This is the same as my thoughts regarding the “translation of a melody” mentioned above. From this, too, I feel the importance of the individuality that “it has to be that sound (music).” This leads to the idea that “Musical Sound itself” has an agency that other sounds do not, and that “Musical Sound” is trying to convey something.
Moreover, if the meaning of “Musical Sound” is the emotion that each person creates within themselves, then what a composer can convey through instrumental music is basically only emotion dependent on the listener, and they might end up just assiduously collecting know-how on cultural conventions related to emotion. Furthermore, to be precise, one could say that they are not conveying but predicting a conditioned reflex and composing in a way that plants the trigger for it.
While this can be called a natural method in certain kinds of music, if we are told that’s all there is to it, I don’t think I’m the only one who would lose their fascination with composition. At the very least, I want to be able to believe that I can imbue my own music with something and that there is a possibility it can be transmitted. Therefore, I want to somehow find meaning in “Musical Sound itself” and make a breakthrough. Even if it is a “trigger,” I want it to be a trigger with great meaning.
The musicologist Zuckerkandl has made the following interesting observations about “Musical Sound itself,” which I would like to quote.
A musical sound is a sound with a special “dynamic quality.” And this “dynamic quality” is none other than the musical property of sound.
The “dynamic quality” belongs neither to the mental or spiritual events of our inner world, nor to the physical phenomena of the outer world. Hitherto, the external world has been regarded as the world of matter, the world of physical events, and phenomena that have no basis in this material world have been thought to have their source in our inner world. And if it were neither, it was interpreted as the work of God.
But in the external world, there are not only matter and physical events, but also an existence of force that transcends them. A musical sound is a phenomenon of that force. Therefore, our perception of the external world is not limited to objects and physical phenomena. At least one of our senses has the ability to perceive the existence of force directly. That is “hearing.”
We regard the meaning inherent in a musical sound as a “dynamic quality” and consider it a manifestation of force itself, which can only be directly perceived by hearing. Therefore, to listen to music as music means to experience a very unique event that stands out from the world we encounter in our daily lives (that is, the external world as a world of physical events, and the inner world).
(From “Introduction to Music Aesthetics” by Yo Kuniyasu, Shunjusha)
In this way, I believe this provides extremely valuable insight when thinking about “Musical Sound itself.” The idea that just as the senses of sight, touch, and smell perceive physical events like brightness, temperature, and odor, the sense of hearing perceives sound’s own “force,” is particularly important in that it offers a perspective that precedes the value judgments we usually make about music.
In other words, “to perceive a certain sound as music when you hear it is to experience the dynamic quality of that sound through ‘hearing,’ and we shall call a sound that manifests such a force Musical Sound.” If so, “listening for the sake of listening” can be reinterpreted as trying to perceive the “dynamic quality” of the sound itself.
As a concrete example, the musical experience of feeling a dominant motion within a certain piece can be described as perceiving only a certain “force” within the “force” of the piece as a whole. The “that feeling” of dominant motion can be thought of as being obtained by perceiving “a certain kind of force” within it. And that “force” is a part of the whole, and at the same time, it is indispensable for the “force” of the whole. Incidentally, what value that “feeling” has is a separate issue.
Revisiting the previous opinion in light of this, we can say that “Musical Sound” itself has a “something” to convey, and it is an experience through a “dynamic quality” that can only be perceived by listening. It is because we perceive this that we feel the sound is music, and from there, the process of checking against past musical experiences also begins.
And furthermore, it can be considered that “Musical Sound” has an effect mediated by the experience of its “dynamic quality,” and that empathy is born from this effect.
In other words, it becomes possible to think that empathy is born between both parties, mediated by the experience of “dynamic quality.” For the creator, the composer, thinking about that experience becomes an interesting point of focus.
Moreover, since the possibility of real “empathy,” not an illusion, emerging between the creator and the listener through the experience of “dynamic quality” becomes visible, the opinion that it is merely a shared illusion can be disregarded. In this way, couldn’t the composer reaffirm the rather obvious fact that they can empathize with the listener through their own music?
Now, as you have seen, we started by using the relationship between “sound” and its meaning as a clue to think about “listening,” the basis of musical experience. This led us to the point where we can assume that the experience of listening to “the sound we perceive as music,” i.e., “Musical Sound,” is the experience of a “dynamic quality,” a uniquely musical event. And we are beginning to think that “empathy” is born through that experience. Next, using these as a foothold, I will think about “what can be conveyed through composition.”
Chapter 4: What Can Be Conveyed Through Composition
Based on the considerations so far, I will now think about what can be conveyed through composition. This is not to say I will try to grasp the entirety of it concretely. Rather, it is an attempt to envision a small part of the vast world of music based on what we’ve discussed.
Let’s once again recall the simple impression of the sound we perceive as music.
What are the characteristics of “the sound we perceive as music”? As a simple impression based on my experience, I can say it is something that moves the heart when heard. One could also say it’s something in which an embedded “something” is transmitted to us.
When we listen to music, I think we actively try to feel something from it, or we feel something that is naturally transmitted from the music. From such experiences, it certainly seems that there is *something* in music.
(From Chapter 1: The Relationship Between Sound and Meaning)
Reconsidering this, I can have a different impression. Indeed, it seems there is a “something” in music that is different from other sounds we hear daily. And now, as one of those somethings, I believe we can envision the experience of “dynamic quality,” an experience unique to the world of music.
When music is usually discussed, I don’t think the perspective of it as a mediator of empathy is considered. It’s often spoken of either from a purely acoustical viewpoint, like “music is just sound,” or in vague terms like “empathizing through music” or “empathizing with music.”
That is why in this column, I am advancing my thoughts on the question, “Why is empathy possible, and where does music’s uniqueness lie?” I started by considering the characteristics of “the sound we perceive as music” when viewed as sound, then posited “Musical Sound,” then considered that the “something” conveyed by “Musical Sound” might be the experience of “dynamic quality,” and have now come to the point of thinking that empathy might be born through that experience as a mediator.
If that’s the case, the next step is to think about what the crucial “empathy” that is thought to be born from “Musical Sound” actually is. And I believe that will lead to thinking about what can be conveyed through composition.
Now, I think everyone has had the experience of coming to have some kind of emotion by listening to a certain Musical Sound. And I am hypothesizing that this emotion is a “memory of emotion” evoked through the experience of the Musical Sound’s dynamic quality. Furthermore, that emotion can be seen as an effect evoked by the Musical Sound.
So, is the emotion evoked by Musical Sound the same as the various emotions in daily life?
I believe the emotions of joy, anger, sadness, and pleasure experienced in daily life are born when we encounter some event. When our wishes are fulfilled, when a close person is gone, or when we are harmed by someone—when we encounter such real events, I think people have vivid emotions. In other words, couldn’t we say that these emotions are a person’s passive reactions and have an aspect of being an attribute of events or things?
One cannot simply recall the emotion of “joy”; rather, isn’t the emotion of joy recalled through “the event that was joyful”? If you want to “feel happy,” you would re-experience a happy memory in your imagination. At that time, you might notice that a concrete event is always involved.
Moreover, the emotions held as such passive reactions are to some extent individual, and the emotion towards a certain event should generally vary from person to person. There are events that everyone would be sad about, but in some cases, even the eternal parting with a person can be felt not as sadness but as joy.
Now, if such a memory of emotion is evoked within the listener by the trigger of listening to Musical Sound, then it indeed seems plausible that there are as many impressions as there are listeners. What I want to be careful about here is that while emotions in daily life are emotions towards the reality of the now, the emotion from Musical Sound is assumed to be an evoked emotion as a memory.
This part is the difference between the emotion when listening to Musical Sound and the emotion in daily life, but their origin is the same in that they are “a passive reaction tied to a certain event or thing.” However, for the listener, the question remains whether they can distinguish if that emotion is a memory or a real emotion, or if they cannot distinguish it, so I think there is room to reconsider this “emotion as a memory.”
Emotions are thought to be closely tied to a person’s experiences and are to some extent individual. In that case, can this emotion tied to a specific experience be transmitted to the listener as is through Musical Sound? For the listener, it seems more appropriate to think that the emotion they feel is transmitted from the music is, after all, a reaction to a “trigger,” where the listener’s own memory of emotion (or the emotion itself) is evoked.
If that is the case, then even if the creator thinks they have imbued their work with the emotion gained through their own concrete experience, it would mean that it is not transmitted to the listener in that way. So, if the basis of empathy is not in emotion, where on earth is it?
Emotions are thought to be linked to concrete events and the like. And they are something one can have towards the reality of the now. But are emotions the only real mental movements? Besides emotions, isn’t there an incomprehensible yet real “mood” that even the person themselves cannot understand—that is, something that cannot be put into words, cannot be grasped, and makes you not understand your own heart?
I believe this “mood” is not so much evoked by some event but is a state one falls into, something that arises in the heart without any trigger. Just as the words “moody” or “whimsical” express, it is an elusive mental movement. And that mood itself probably does not have a clear link to any concrete event or thing. I think everyone has had the experience of not knowing why they are in such a mood. Couldn’t this “mood” be considered a non-objective, truly subjective mental movement?
Therefore, I propose the following hypothesis. Isn’t the real experience when listening to Musical Sound not the evocation of emotion (or its memory), but becoming into a state of mind that should be called a non-objective, truly subjective “mood”? Unlike emotion, it does not have the special coloring of joy, anger, sadness, or pleasure; if anything, it can only be described as a mental transformation (elation, melancholy, serenity, mystery, etc.). That is “mood.”
When a listener hears a Musical Sound, they hear its “dynamic quality.” Through that experience, the listener perceives a “certain mood.” To be precise, they “become immersed in that mood.” In other words, that experience “puts them in that mood.” It is a mood that cannot be put into words, is different from joy, anger, sadness, or pleasure, and is elusive. I propose that on top of such a state of mood, the emotions we have discussed so far are evoked.
In other words, it is conceivable that the creator, when immersed in their own piece, is also in a certain “mood,” and that mood is a state of mind that cannot be put into words, has no object (meaning this state is not an attribute of something), and if anything, can only be described afterward as, “I was in that mood because I was listening to that Musical Sound.” The idea is that this mood the creator was immersed in can be experienced by other listeners of that Musical Sound in the same way.
Unlike emotions, there is a mental movement inherent in people that does not depend on specific events or things at all. This is what we call “mood,” and furthermore, we consider that it can be moved by the experience of “dynamic quality.” The argument here is that “empathy” in music is something like this.
Because it has no object, mood is truly subjective. And because it is subjective, mood likely envelops the entirety of the listener’s consciousness. Mood might be the very way a person’s mind exists. As such, it is deeply related to the human ego. The “mood” that is empathized with through music is thought to be something like this.
To put it poetically, one might paradoxically say that Musical Sound is “what people listen to in order to confirm that they can empathize.”
If so, for a composer, couldn’t we say that creation begins with the conviction that the “mood” they are in when listening to the music they created, the “mood” when they are absorbed in that music—that is, the mental transformation (elation, melancholy, serenity, mystery, etc.)—is transmitted to the listener in the same way? And isn’t what the composer can imbue their music with the “intensity” of that mood? Furthermore, when listening to music with great intensity, isn’t a deep emotional response corresponding to that intensity obtained by both the creator and the listener?
First and foremost, it is best for the creator to create music that moves their own heart more strongly, and in that sense, composition is something to be done honestly with one’s own sensibility. And this can only be done if there is the conviction that one can empathize with the listener.
In Conclusion
As described above, I have attempted to create a “story that affirms that we can empathize through music.” However, there are many abstract expressions, and it may be difficult to understand in many points. This is solely due to my lack of understanding and writing ability. I hope to be able to present a more accessible “story” in the future.
In a previous column, I mentioned that “musical phenomena exist within the listener’s sensibility.” I have the feeling that this indicates a certain essence in the act of “listening.” However, when thinking about it from the aspect of “empathy,” one inevitably gets caught up in the point of “the listener’s freedom,” and it becomes easy to lose a real sense of the reality that the “something” the creator intends to convey is transmitted.
That is why a story was necessary to accept what I am actually experiencing as such and to understand it in my own way. If one can find some kind of possibility from there, isn’t that a very joyful thing for a creator?
I believe that the “something” a composer can imbue their music with is the mood that enveloped the creator’s consciousness, and it all begins with the belief that just as the creator entered that state, so too will the listener. Isn’t the possibility of composition visible from this position? And what has become visible to all of you?
Related Articles
