Life Lessons from the World of Music
How Music Informs Other Endeavors
There are parallels between music and other pursuits. A common expression you’ve probably heard is that “music is math.” And yes, there is math involved in music (there are a certain number of beats to each bar, or measure, for instance — depending on the time signature of the song (usually either 4/4 or 3/4 for popular Western music)); and notes are of a specific measurable duration: 1 beat, half a beat, one-fourth of a beat, two beats, four beats, &c.
But music corresponds to other life experiences and endeavors, too. Music is an art form, after all, not just cold, hard, unbending math. Take the realm of sports, for example. Really? Some would think the two pursuits (music and athletics) have little if anything in common, but note this: When you listen to sports commentators speak of a player who is no longer a rookie, and has become comfortable with his role on the team and the carrying out of his assignment, it is said that he’s now playing faster because he doesn’t have to think as much.
The same thing is true in music. When you’re first learning an instrument, your play is very choppy and mechanical sounding — plodding and deliberate, like someone reading aloud text written in a foreign language. As you become more comfortable with your instrument, though — through time and, yes, engaging in the activity that predicates whether one ever finds his way to Carnegie Hall (practice, practice, practice) — you play more and more smoothly and, rather than always painstakingly, lip-bitingly playing memorized notes, you even learn to improvise (playing notes “on the fly”). When the athlete gets to the point where he can react instinctively to what’s happening around him, he is now, similar to the musician, thinking less and improvising, too. He’s not really thinking less, but he’s thinking less consciously — as the musician, his educated and practiced subconscious is paving the way for him to play faster and more smoothly.
This brings up a question many might have about (American) football players moving from college to the NFL. You may have heard that it takes them a while to learn the NFL game. But haven’t they been playing football all their life (or at least since Peewee or Pop Warner days for most of them)? Yes, but the NFL compared to college can be compared to the difference between rock ‘n’ roll and jazz, or between jazz and classical (or what have you). A musician may know how to play in one genre, and even be expert at it, but that doesn’t mean that he can play worth beans in another genre, without spending the time to learn the niceties and meanities of it.
For a more dramatic example, you might think of how Michael Jordan fared when he moved from basketball (wherein he was a virtuoso) to baseball (which he never quite mastered at the professional level). That might be compared to a musician moving from playing guitar to saxophone or from keyboards (such as piano or organ) to bagpipe while simultaneously switching genres, such as from country music to reggae (bagpipes in reggae?).
Here’s another example of something that is widely (if not universally) applicable, and is always the case when playing music with other people: While your instrument may be in tune with itself and sound fine when played standalone, when you play with other musicians, you all must be in tune with each other, not just yourself. In other words, cooperation and an agreement on a standard is necessary to avoid sounding like a clowder of alley cats fighting in a trash can.
What I mean is a person playing an instrument (a guitar, for example, but this applies to any instrument) may have all his strings in tune with each other, but it could be that the pitch of none of the strings actually corresponds with that note’s actual accepted pitch (as indicated by a tuning fork or other tuning device). Since the guitar is in tune with itself (assuming it is), it probably sounds fine when the musician is playing without any other instruments. But when two or more are gathered together to play music, they must agree on a common pitch for a given note, and one or more of the musicians will have to retune their instrument to that agreed-upon pitch.
Isn’t the same thing necessary when people engage in just about any sort of shared activity? They need to agree on certain premises and principles, and even definitions of words, or the resulting conversation or activity will be inharmonious, to say the least.
A person may “talk to himself” and think what he’s saying (or thinking) makes perfect sense, but when he discusses the subject with others, he may find that he’s out of tune with them, so to speak. Or perhaps he is demonstrably right, and the others are out of tune with him (or her, of course). At any rate, in order to accomplish anything positive, the group must agree on what’s what and which ground rules apply — which note they will all tune to (whether literally or figuratively). If those in the group share the same goal (desire the same outcome, such as to “make beautiful music together” and accomplish something worthwhile together), and are willing to “check their ego at the door,” cooperation should be doable, though some (and maybe all) will have to re-tune to one degree or another.
Someone who isolates himself and doesn’t play well with others, or doesn’t play with others at all, is likely to become quirky at best, and possibly even dangerous. Ted Kaczynski (the so-called Unabomber) is a poster child for this type of case, though certainly not the only example.
When we associate with others, our rough edges can be filed away by the positive peer pressure we receive from them — by noting their reactions to things we say and do via either comments they make or by their facial gestures; we become more well-rounded when we allow the wisdom of the crowd to influence us.
As in everything, balance is the key. This organic conforming can be taken to an extreme, for sure, but fitting in is far better than becoming a deranged (albeit possibly highly intelligent, a la Ted Kaczynski) maniac.
Full disclosure: I actually agree with Kaczynski (and George Hayduke/Edward Abbey) on some of their thoughts about the dangers of an overly-industrialized society, rampant consumerism/greedy commerce, and people knowing the cost of everything and the value of nothing, but I agree with the Beatles: “When you talk about destruction, don’t you know that you can count me out” — especially when it comes to the destruction of human lives.A few more areas where the playing of music has its “regular world” analogues are that when playing and speaking, volume and tone are important; and even more so, timing; and what we play/say (or don’t play/say).
e.g., in music, certain notes may be good while playing in one key, but would clash and be sour if the other musicians were playing in a different key (playing the notes of a C major scale over a song in the key of B, or vice versa, could cause groans, grimaces, and gnashing of teeth; even playing C major notes when a C minor chord is being played — or vice versa — can be dissonant). Similarly, what might be an appropriate topic at a festive gathering may not be appreciated at a funeral, for instance.
And often the best thing to play or say, no matter what the key or venue, is nothing. Negative space in art, and in speech, is not to be underestimated. In fact, nothing is sometimes also the best thing to do.