Thanks very much for this beautiful writing and for naming thoughts that I had been not quite able to.. - I think the friend in your opening anecdote could have been speaking for me at times recently in certain circles. I appreciate all of this and Amen to "we need all of it!!"
I'd like to share one personal example of generous "negative space" in your music, and how it worked itself out in my life. This past year your song "Baltimore" was my most listened- to-track. I wasn't surprised to see this in the Spotify end-of-year business. I actually came to the song and it's album by way of Joshua Redman's recent cover on "Where We Are" which is so beautiful. Smitten by the melody and chord structure, and somewhat familiar with your music (but not with this particular song) I had to investigate. I quickly fell in love with the whole Book of Travelers, and with the original " Baltimore." - The words initially felt like a fun puzzle to solve... and knowing a little something about the musics origin story helped me to appreciate the stranger-than-fiction complexity that a conversation could have, where a story of grief and loss could be wrapped up in asides about the history of the National Park system!
But as I listened repeatedly, and figured it out for myself on the piano... it was clearly doing some work on me beyond what you could have intended. I'm a single father, and the big emotional task of this past year was sending my oldest (son) off to college. I think that even before I knew the words to Baltimore there was some kind of melancholy spirit in those tones resonating with me... and once I heard the lyrics, with their imagery about sending young men off to find themselves... "Give him an ax and a seed, Give him a pack and a tree, Teach him to care for himself, Give him fresh air for his health" I was tipped over the edge! I would listen to this song, (both your original and Redman's version) daily, and cry. It became a sacrament of sorts, a way to vent and really feel all of it, all of the insecurities about how well I had prepared my son for adulthood, and uncertainty over what our relationship would look like in the future. It's a beautiful kind of serendipity that has happened to me several times, where a piece of music becomes an emotional monument of a particular time or experience, and I know that through that song I'll always be able to go back and re-inhabit the feeling of that season, so thanks for that as well, and isn't music something?:-)
Kris — this is just a brief note to say thank you for sharing this. Your anecdote about negative space/the Baltimore lyric/your son brought me to tears. Thank you for reading, and for your support.
I thoroughly enjoyed this article, Gabriel; you brought up some great points. I've noticed over the years, particularly with popular music (such as certain mid-20th century protest songs, for example) that those pieces which speak to universal truths tend to have much more staying power over time than those which focus narrowly on a particular topic. Those who listen, sing along, or whatever, can attribute their own particular meaning and interpretation to it while still appreciating the original circumstances from which it might have sprung. In fact, they've morphed into "absolute music" by becoming infused into the culture at large--not a luxury at all, but a necessary part of the social fabric. The same parameters can be applied to visual art, which is presumably the reason behind adding the Albers images. (On a personal note, I also appreciated the bit about "polemic dressed as art." I once had the opportunity to participate in a play that was exactly that. Its aim was very sincere but it would have been more effective, IMHO, had the specific topical commentary been toned down a bit.) Thanks again for writing this; hopefully it will be widely read!
Insightful and uplifting. I am wondering how you see recorded music-- and, by extension, written words-- operating in this context. Does community depend upon in-person interconnectedness? Obviously we were all wounded to one extent or another during the enforced isolation of the pandemic, and subsequently thirsty for in-person communal experiences. But you also of course have recorded output; people may be listening to-- and, ideally, communing with-- your work pretty much anywhere at any time, independent of your live performances. Just as we writers put words out into the world that are read, if at all, in a reader's private setting. Is there in your view a workable, if different, sense of community generated outside of an actual three-dimensional, bodily gathering?
I'm not Gabriel, obviously, so I hope you don't mind my adding my 2 cents' worth here, but I'd think in general that the answer would be yes. One needs to look no further than the Swifties, for example. That community numbers millions. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swifties
Gabriel!! I am with you on this one! We need music and art that speaks to universal truths (such as human suffering) not work that is merely a political essay in disguise. Art has its own unique function, and it’s an important one. Vive l’art!
Thanks very much for this beautiful writing and for naming thoughts that I had been not quite able to.. - I think the friend in your opening anecdote could have been speaking for me at times recently in certain circles. I appreciate all of this and Amen to "we need all of it!!"
I'd like to share one personal example of generous "negative space" in your music, and how it worked itself out in my life. This past year your song "Baltimore" was my most listened- to-track. I wasn't surprised to see this in the Spotify end-of-year business. I actually came to the song and it's album by way of Joshua Redman's recent cover on "Where We Are" which is so beautiful. Smitten by the melody and chord structure, and somewhat familiar with your music (but not with this particular song) I had to investigate. I quickly fell in love with the whole Book of Travelers, and with the original " Baltimore." - The words initially felt like a fun puzzle to solve... and knowing a little something about the musics origin story helped me to appreciate the stranger-than-fiction complexity that a conversation could have, where a story of grief and loss could be wrapped up in asides about the history of the National Park system!
But as I listened repeatedly, and figured it out for myself on the piano... it was clearly doing some work on me beyond what you could have intended. I'm a single father, and the big emotional task of this past year was sending my oldest (son) off to college. I think that even before I knew the words to Baltimore there was some kind of melancholy spirit in those tones resonating with me... and once I heard the lyrics, with their imagery about sending young men off to find themselves... "Give him an ax and a seed, Give him a pack and a tree, Teach him to care for himself, Give him fresh air for his health" I was tipped over the edge! I would listen to this song, (both your original and Redman's version) daily, and cry. It became a sacrament of sorts, a way to vent and really feel all of it, all of the insecurities about how well I had prepared my son for adulthood, and uncertainty over what our relationship would look like in the future. It's a beautiful kind of serendipity that has happened to me several times, where a piece of music becomes an emotional monument of a particular time or experience, and I know that through that song I'll always be able to go back and re-inhabit the feeling of that season, so thanks for that as well, and isn't music something?:-)
Kris — this is just a brief note to say thank you for sharing this. Your anecdote about negative space/the Baltimore lyric/your son brought me to tears. Thank you for reading, and for your support.
"Without music, life would be a mistake."
-Frederick Neitzche
I thoroughly enjoyed this article, Gabriel; you brought up some great points. I've noticed over the years, particularly with popular music (such as certain mid-20th century protest songs, for example) that those pieces which speak to universal truths tend to have much more staying power over time than those which focus narrowly on a particular topic. Those who listen, sing along, or whatever, can attribute their own particular meaning and interpretation to it while still appreciating the original circumstances from which it might have sprung. In fact, they've morphed into "absolute music" by becoming infused into the culture at large--not a luxury at all, but a necessary part of the social fabric. The same parameters can be applied to visual art, which is presumably the reason behind adding the Albers images. (On a personal note, I also appreciated the bit about "polemic dressed as art." I once had the opportunity to participate in a play that was exactly that. Its aim was very sincere but it would have been more effective, IMHO, had the specific topical commentary been toned down a bit.) Thanks again for writing this; hopefully it will be widely read!
Insightful and uplifting. I am wondering how you see recorded music-- and, by extension, written words-- operating in this context. Does community depend upon in-person interconnectedness? Obviously we were all wounded to one extent or another during the enforced isolation of the pandemic, and subsequently thirsty for in-person communal experiences. But you also of course have recorded output; people may be listening to-- and, ideally, communing with-- your work pretty much anywhere at any time, independent of your live performances. Just as we writers put words out into the world that are read, if at all, in a reader's private setting. Is there in your view a workable, if different, sense of community generated outside of an actual three-dimensional, bodily gathering?
I'm not Gabriel, obviously, so I hope you don't mind my adding my 2 cents' worth here, but I'd think in general that the answer would be yes. One needs to look no further than the Swifties, for example. That community numbers millions. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swifties
Gabriel!! I am with you on this one! We need music and art that speaks to universal truths (such as human suffering) not work that is merely a political essay in disguise. Art has its own unique function, and it’s an important one. Vive l’art!