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<$9.20.2007$>
EGO: The Death of Music
| Is ego the arsenic of modern music? Is hedonism the heroin of the modern musician? If the modern muse is on crack and the ego is in fact a spiritual heroin then we had better pray for a hero to rescue us from the clutches of its evil. Ego is defined as the "self" or "self esteem." According to Merriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, ego is one of three divisions of the psyche in psychoanalytic theory that serves as the organized conscious mediator between the person and reality esp. by functioning both in the perception of and adaptation to reality. (The other two are the ID and the Superego.) Egocentric: is said to be limited in outlook or concern to one's own activities or needs; self-centered; selfish. (Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary) Egoistic Hedonism: the ethical theory that achieving one's own happiness is the proper goal of all conduct. (Webster's Collegiate Dictionary) That's a mouthful but if we're going to have the discussion we have to have a reliable starting point. Music is unique as an art form first and most obviously because it is an aural art form. We have to "hear" it to appreciate it. I qualify hearing music also as a unique sensory experience because it includes "feeling" music. Those afflicted with hearing loss or no hearing at all have been reported to feel music's vibrations and as such can appreciate music to varying degrees - the drum beats or the bass lines, for example. To experience music is also to experience associated emotions from past and present - joy, pain, loneliness, elation, arousal, anger and so on. Young girls have screamed till they were voiceless for Elvis, The Beatles or Michael Jackson. Grown men have caught the Holy Spirit and wept like babies or run laps around the sanctuary. Women have divested themselves of their undergarments at the very sight and sound of a guy name Theodore - Pendergrass that is. Fans have wept at the feet and song of Engelbert Humperdink or Julio Iglesias; Barry Manilow, Tom Jones, Al Green, Marvin Gaye or Luther Vandross singing "A House Is Not a Home." That's the power of music. Those who compose and perform music have for centuries been motivated by a very simple notion - pleasing others. Now we simply want to please ourselves. Whether it was a 16th Century tribal ceremony or a 20th Century wedding ceremony, the one with the honor of raising their voice in song wished to meet the need of the occasion as well as the approval of the listeners gathered. Dark-haired Tabla drummers of Burma, bare-kneed bagpipe players of Scotland or tobacco-chewing banjo players of the Blue Ridge Mountains all want to please the listener with little if any regard to self-enrichment. The second of the two most powerful traditional artistic motivators is the sense of accomplishment. To feel that you are uniquely, gifted in a particular area of, endeavor is a locomotivator. That may not be a word but the feeling is just that powerful. Seventeenth and 18th Century composers were not satisfied with fame or fortune, the latter of which eluded most, if it was not accompanied by critical acclaim and the approval of their peers. As a youngster I didn't feel particular good at anything or confident for any reason until I was introduced to the violin. To this day it is my longest love affair. I wasn't good at sports, wasn’t the toughest kid on the block and with my pronounced overbite I was hardly the cutest kid in the class so when the violin came along and set me apart from the others, some of whom I envied, it gave me my identity. I am still a violinist first and foremost - and in my mind, it still sets me apart. Each time I take the stage to perform I am filled with a sense of honor. Whether the stage is Carnegie Hall or the most modest of nightclubs in the back roads of South Carolina I always feel a sense of privilege to be chosen to entertain others. From the time I was a young boy playing violin for Sunday afternoon church programs throughout Brooklyn I have always felt a sense of service. Today you would have to book talent for that same program and negotiate fees and terms. Many of today's gifted Christian musicians wouldn't play for God himself if the pay wasn't right. (Y'all don’t have to like what I say. If it's true, that's good enough for me.) I didn't save Jazz; Jazz saved me. Jazz gave me a standard by which to measure my artistic progress and a sense of dignity left by examples such as Art Blakey, Oscar Peterson, Sarah Vaughn, Ella Fitzgerald, Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie, Art Tatum, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Louis Armstrong, Clark Terry, John Coltrane, Dexter Gordon, Carmen McCrae, Dinah Washington, Nat and Cannonball Adderley and so many others, who while possessing their own shares of ego and in some cases shortcomings, never lost sight of the fact that they were agents of Jazz and that the music was always bigger than themselves. An overwhelming majority of Jazz artists have down through the years lived modest middle class lives with no real sense of bling bling but rather enjoyed true love affairs with the music that defined them. The artistic community has always mimicked society and it is evident from our music, TV programming and popular pornographic novels that we are lost in a hedonistic haze reminiscent of crack smoke. To some immeasurable degree this haze hinders the artists' ability to speak to your heart, soul, issues, needs and desires because they are too wrapped up in their own upgraded, red carpet lifestyles to relate to our pedestrian existence. Even popular pastors would encourage you to elevate your game rather than your faith. I heard a pastor state very clearly that he would prefer not to pastor a "poor" congregation. "I wouldn’t be doing my job if you weren't all successful" he said. I don't recall much that he said about salvation. I've referenced the soul on several occasions in my commentaries. I fear that I may have to at some point in the near future prepare its obituary. The soul is, to my mind's eye, the worm hole of the human experience. A worm hole, believed by some to be the connecting point of a galaxy's black hole, (a point at which all matter and energy are absorbed and reduced to nothing) and a white hole, (a point at which matter is seemingly spewed into creation) is a point at which time and dimension are transcended. I believe the soul is where we find one another at our truest state of existence. I believe the soul is where we find God. The absence of the soul is where we find ourselves today, minus a need for one another, minus a sense of compassion, minus a connection to mankind or the spirit of God in man - racist, intolerant. Imagine the souls of mankind being sucked into a black hole like a giant cosmic vacuum cleaner. Sound like an episode of the Outer Limits? The absence of soul is where America finds itself from the classroom to the boardroom; the pulpit to the White House. The studio and the stage with all the new world class technological advancements have finally been rendered soulless - flat lined. I don't know the exact time of death; however, I have to believe that with life support and extreme non-traditional treatment such as we may find on Youtube or MySpace, there may be hope - and like Rev. Jesse has always said, "Keep Hope Alive." NOTE: I have tried to keep these pieces edgy enough to encourage response from our readers. I need to hear from you on topics such as this. To encourage you to write in I have embedded an "error" in the last piece. If you find it and write in you will receive a modest but enjoyable gift, compliments of your Dallas Weekly and me. Hint; It can be found where I referenced, Beethoven. Article also published in Dallas Weekly |
<$9.07.2007$>
The Sound of Silence
| The sound of silence rings deep within my head. It's the sound I hear when my thoughts are raging like a white water rapid.  It's the cool breeze I hear within me when my soul is at peace. It's the mental crickets I try so hard to ignore while meditating on a whispered answer from God. Vocal rest is as vital to a professional singer as physical rest is to a pro athlete. Miles Davis stressed the importance of space in music as he explained his transition from bebop to cool. As a young violinist studying in Massachusetts' Berkshires, I learned the importance of the musical rest in great classical compositions from brilliant conductors like the Boston Symphony's, Seji Ozawa. Think of Beethoven's Ninth - Da da da daaaaa... (Rest) Da da da daaaaa... (Rest). The rest is critical to the integrity of this great theme. If audible sound is my exhalation than silence is my much needed inhalation. Silence frightens some of us but I crave its warm womblike embrace. When I first wrote the instrumental CD Divine Ascension it was because I needed a break from the sound of my own voice. There are times when the voice hits me like a bone chilling rain - a winter storm. I have heard lyrics to songs that are quite near painful to my ear. Today I heard a "song" called "Read a Book". I found myself wishing the authors had as great an appreciation for silence as I do. This was sound in the form of lyric that was as close an approximation to excrement as I've heard in quite some time. They were insightful enough to pitch reading to young people yet their intellect failed them miserably when it came to message delivery. Perhaps they are deaf and are spared the agony of their own insult to the ears. Don Imus must be enjoying the laugh of his life as he plays and replays this self-degradation disguised as music played out on BET. I have no idea whatsoever what BET execs are thinking. I am not so idealistic that I don't support controversy in art. I also support art as an effective tool used to address and chronicle sensitive cultural issues. What I cannot support is "art" used simply and gratuitously as a tool to offend and this piece is offensive. It is unfortunate but true that our culture suffers a gross imbalance of art for profit versus art to communicate and to a much lesser extent, art to beautify. In the movie Bowfinger, Eddie Murphy's character Kit Ramsey very clearly distinguishes between a film and a movie. "This is a movie, this ain't no film." A film maker makes art, a movie maker makes money. I get it! For those who created the "Read a Book" piece, I recommend a time-out. For those who thought it would be a clever piece to air, it may be time for a career change. For those of you who pay for cable so you can enjoy programming like BET, the executive's of which apparently thinks it's o.k. to pollute our homes with this garbage, call your cable companies and complain. For those of you who think there's nothing at all wrong with it; on the count of three... one, two, three… inhale... now hold it. Article also published in Dallas Weekly |